


Mothership Volvatu

by Kolivans (arka_r)



Series: Mothership Volvatu [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (does it count as mpreg if theyre an alien tho), Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe, Cousin Incest (mentioned), F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Nobody is Dead, Political Alliances, Polyamory Negotiations, Polygamy, Science Fiction, They/Them Pronouns Kolivan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arka_r/pseuds/Kolivans
Summary: When an unknown asteroid headed towards Planet Daibazaal with a threat that it would decimate all life on Daibazaal, the people of Galra had to set aside their pride to ask for help from their enemy; the Altean people of Planet Altea. An alliance was born and together they worked to find solution about how to destroy the asteroid.But after years of fruitless attempts, it became clear that they could not destroy the asteroid. The people of Galra had to take one drastic measure to put the continued survival of their species above anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my entry for Galra Big Bang 2017-2018!
> 
> firstly, i want to apologize to everyone involved. i went through a lot of rough patches while working on this, so this fic might not be my best of work. but i'm still pretty proud of this because of all the thoughts that went into this!! i hope you are enjoying this fic as much as i am with writing it!
> 
> secondly, shoutout to these amazing people!!  
> my artist: [puddingmcmuffin](https://puddingmcmuffin.tumblr.com/)  
> my beta: [revasnaslan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/revasnaslan)  
> my amazing and beautiful mod: [aurum](http://paladinpuppypile.tumblr.com/)

 

 

Zarkon walked down the ramp of his ship as soon as they touched down on the landing platform; with Trigel to his left and Gyrgan to his right. Kolivan was already there, escorted by an array of ministers, servants, and guards, and looked like they had been worrying themself sick. Ignoring the others, Zarkon went to greet his mate first, taking their hand and pressed gentle kisses to their knuckles.

 

“How does it look?” Kolivan asked first, impatient.

 

Zarkon shook his head. Almost instantly, Kolivan’s ears drooped.

 

Of course, Zarkon understood his mate’s worry. Having a seemingly indestructible asteroid hurtling towards Daibazaal warranted it. Right now, the asteroid was still outside the Daibazaal Star-System, but it would reach Daibazaal in twenty _dralsa_ , more or less.

 

Some intern from the Imperial Astronautical Division was fortunate to catch it very early and quickly alerted Zarkon. Within ten _dral_ , Zarkon had formed a team of scientists from various backgrounds to help him better understand  their situation.

 

The Environmental Division had predicted that the impact would not only cause global extinction, but also _utter destruction_ of the planet itself. Zarkon knew they had to act fast, so he quickly gathered all Galran leaders to take immediate action.

 

At first, they sent various scientific vessels to understand the asteroid, and quickly found that it was made from a material that they had never seen or encountered before. Then, they sent warships to destroy it— at least whatever ships they had that weren’t sent out to the Front —but that endeavor was not very successful.

 

After several failed attempts, Zarkon contacted his allies, Kalif Gyrgan of Planet Rygnirath and Grand-Magister Trigel of Dalterion Belt, to assist him.

 

“I have to admit, I almost didn’t believe it when Zarkon told me the asteroid is impossible to destroy, until I saw it with my own eyes”, Gyrgan spoke up, offering Zarkon an apologetic smile.

 

Zarkon sighed; he didn’t believe it himself when his own astrogeology team reported back about their findings.

 

“What should we do now?” Kolivan’s face twisted with worry, their hand hovering slightly over their belly. Zarkon noticed that it was an unconscious gesture that they seemed to pick up as of late, and felt his own gut sank.

 

Kolivan had been carrying Zarkon’s first clutch—it had been ten _dralis_ , and they would come out in a _dralis_ or two. Zarkon couldn’t bear the thought that their cub would be born and live on a _doomed_ planet.

 

Steeling his jaw, he reached over to cup Kolivan’s cheek in his palm.

 

“We will find a way”, he answered. A promise.

 

There was still a crease between Kolivan’s brow, but they gave him a slight smile anyway. That alone gave Zarkon some confidence.

 

He gave his mate’s cheek one last pat before leading the group down the dock and to the palace ground. Gyrgan and Trigel were still whispering under their breaths about the plan that the three of them had discussed back on the ship when they were headed back to Daibazaal.

 

“Zarkon? What do you think?” Trigel piped up just as they passed through the front gate.

 

“Not now”, Zarkon hissed at her. There were so many guards and servants milling about, so many ears listening to their words.

 

The political situation on Daibazaal was not very great, between the war against the Altea-Nalquod Alliance and the situation with the strange asteroid. There were so much uncertainty in the future, and Zarkon knew he had to tread more carefully.

 

Trigel seemed to see how tense he was and pulled back reluctantly. He would apologize to her later.

 

When they finally entered Zarkon’s private study, he immediately dismissed the servants and locked the door behind them. Kolivan took Zarkon’s side as usual, while Trigel and Gyrgan took a seat across him.

 

“We planned to discuss an armistice with Altea and Nalquod”, Gyrgan said, as soon as they sat down. Zarkon wanted to smack his friend for his lack of tact, but well… It was bound to happen sooner or later, anyway.

 

As expected, Kolivan didn’t seem to take this information kindly. Their fingers gripped the table tightly and their face hardened. Yet, their voice was eerily calm.

 

“Why Altea and Nalquod?”

 

“Because they have superior technology than us”, Trigel answered. “At least, Altea does.”

 

“Altea destroyed _three_ of our outer colonies”, Kolivan hissed, before turning to face Zarkon. “My dear, surely you were not considering this?”

 

Zarkon hesitated for a brief moment. Kolivan gave a humorless chuckle. “I cannot _believe_ this.”

 

“Trigel lost five colonies from the war and her people were _enslaved_ by the Nalquodians. Meanwhile Gyrgan lost two planets, along with several members of his family”, Zarkon reminded them. “You must understand how hard for us to make this decision, _my love_ , but we cannot fight both the Altea-Nalquod Alliance and the asteroid _at the same time_.”

 

Zarkon couldn’t completely blame his mate, though. Their anger was justifiable. After all, the invasion to Dalvarik, Hili, and Loria by the Nalquodians Fleet affected Kolivan _personally_. He was fully aware that he was spitting to the face of those who died at the hands of the Alteans, and those who would live and bear their grief for the rest of their lives.

 

“Ranveig will not like it”, Kolivan eventually said, their shoulders slumped in defeat. Ranveig was the current President of Lorian Republic, an extremely unpleasant person to be around, and Kolivan's cousin.

 

When the Altean Fleet attacked Loria-9 Colony, Ranveig and his trusted warriors stayed and fought until the last evacuation ship fled the colony. When his people had no one to turn to, he led them back to Daibazaal, to the land of their ancestors pre-hyperdrive era.

 

It had been one hundred _dralsa_ since then and the United Republic of Lorian People was no longer a country of poor refugees, but a land of successful traders and spacefarers. These days, the Lorians provided about thirty percent of logistics for the Front.

 

As much as Zarkon loathed to agree, Ranveig was a competent leader to his people and had a good number of loyal followers of his own. He would be the most difficult leader to convince about the armistice.

 

Zarkon reached over and placed his hand over Kolivan’s.

 

“I know”, he said, his fingers rubbing circles on Kolivan’s knuckles, tracing the hardened skin that they earned from battles. “I will try to talk to him and the other leaders about the armistice. In the meanwhile, can you speak to your parents? Perhaps they will be able to persuade him better than I can.”

 

Kolivan gave him a nod. “I’ll try, but they won't like it.”

 

That was all he needed.

 

—

 

After that, Gyrgan and Trigel excused themselves so they could discuss the armistice with their respective peoples. Trigel was already a Grand-Magister to her people, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to persuade the Dalters.

 

But the Rygnirs had a different form of government, led by ten Kalifs, with Gyrgan as one of them. All Kalifs had to reach an agreement for the armistice. Zarkon didn’t want to delude himself that the Kalifs would be very pleased about the armistice, especially since it wouldn’t benefit them as much as it would to the Galra.

 

Zarkon broke the news about the failure of his mission to the Galran leaders through the holostream. He could tell that they were not really pleased by his progress and any progress made to develop a new weapon by his science team was not enough to appease them. They were even more outraged when he told them he was thinking another alternative to destroy the asteroid: by making peace with Altea-Nalquod Alliance.

 

“The Alteans killed hundreds of thousands of our people and destroyed our homes!” Ranveig shouted above other leaders.

 

“And the asteroid will kill billions if we don’t stop it”, Zarkon returned, voice surprisingly calm despite its hardness. “There are millions of refugees rebuilding their lives on Daibazaal. They _will_ die when the asteroid strikes.”

 

The leaders’ voice went down in volume, but still there were a lot of angry growling among themselves. Some made expression of begrudging acceptance—Zarkon took note of those, wondering if they would be the first to join the agreement.

 

“We cannot afford to fight both the Alteans and the asteroid. That is the _fact_ ”, Zarkon continued. Admitting it to his mate and friends was one thing, but speaking it out loud to his leaders felt like weakness, like defeat. Like he had failed his own people. “None of our weapons can destroy it, but the Altean weapons _might_.”

 

“And what makes you think that the Altean weapons can stop it if our own weapons can’t?” Ranveig slammed his hand to the table, his teeth baring.

 

Zarkon wanted to reach into the screen and bang Ranveig’s head against the table so he could see sense. The Altean weapons were _clearly_ more advanced and more powerful than any weapons the Galra, the Dalterian, and the Rygnir could ever build.

 

“The Alteans have weapons that we can’t even imagine. Their civilization is older and more advanced than ours. Those are _also_ the facts.”

 

More grumbling, louder this time. Of course that stars-damned Galran pride would never allow them to loudly admit that they were not as great as they liked to believe. Zarkon used to be like that, until he met Kolivan, until they both fought on the Front and saw the truth firsthand.

 

“Think of it like this.” Zarkon ignored his blatant hostility and continued as calmly as he could. “If we stop the war with the Alteans, we can start spreading our empire again and build more colonies.”

 

“The only honorable way to acquire the Altean weaponries is by conquest, not by sitting in the safety of your palace and bowing to their whims in the name of diplomacy!” With that, Ranveig dramatically left the stream and his screen turned off. Some other leaders followed his example.

 

By the end of the day, Zarkon was _exhausted_ deep to his bones. Travelling to the edge of their own star-system was nothing compared to interstellar travel, but the stress from his failure finally caught up to him. His armor felt like heavyweight upon his shoulders and he was _itching_ to take it off.

 

Of course, Kolivan noticed this and dragged him into their shared bedchamber early. Zarkon actually still had a few reports to read, but it only took a single _look_ from Kolivan to make him put down his datapad on the bedside table and follow them into the bathing chamber.

 

The bathing chamber was luxurious, only befitting for the Emperor of Daibazaal and his mate. The dark polished stone floor hid cooling system underneath to help fighting against the scorching desert heat of Oradis Capital City. Not that Zarkon minded the heat, having been born as a Oradian Galra. The cooling system was mostly for his mate’s comfort.

 

There was a large pool filled with sparkling clear water and a window overlooking the desert outside the Star-Palace, providing the best view of the starry night sky while they bathed. The lighting fixtures set into the walls was dim enough to provide a nice ambience.

 

Zarkon entered the bathing chamber just as Kolivan was done undressing. Bathed in dim purple light, his mate looked ethereal, especially with their hair down. There was a prominent bump on their belly where their clutch was growing.

 

As if in a trance, Zarkon slid his arms to loop around his mate’s torso and pressed his nose into the crook of their neck. Kolivan chuckled, fingers deftly unclasping the parts of his armor. Once Zarkon was fully naked, they led him into the water.

 

“How do you want me to serve tonight?” his mate said, lips curling up in a teasing smile.

 

Zarkon groaned and pulled Kolivan into his embrace so he could press his forehead to theirs.

 

There were so many things that he wanted to say— the armistice, the politics. But it felt as if his tongue was tied and all he could do was basking in the utter devotion that Kolivan fed into the bond. When Kolivan broke the forehead-touch, Zarkon almost felt sad.

 

 _Almost_.

 

Using their palms, Kolivan poured water to his head-crown. It was nice, feeling the cold water trickle down the cracks and gaps of his crest, and Zarkon rumbled out a pleased purr. He let Kolivan to attend to him, soaking water into the hard carapace on his back, before he returned the favor.

 

Once both of them were done, they lounged at the edge of the pool and enjoy the silence.

 

Zarkon was always busy with his duties as the Emperor of Daibazaal, Protector of the Galra, while Kolivan was currently absent from field work, being on a gestating leave. But still, they were the Leader of the Blade of Marmora—a special military unit who worked directly for Zarkon—and often got sent off-planet to gather intel.

 

Not to mention that there was a war to think about. Either one of them often went to fight in the frontlines, where the war was the thickest. And so, peaceful moments like this had become a luxury.

 

But reality was hard to ignore. When Zarkon looked up to the sky, he could see the glow from the asteroid— knowing well that it would become a brighter spot on the night sky. A constant reminder of disaster that would befall their people, if they didn’t anything to stop it.

 

“I’m surprised that you’re agreeing to the armistice so easily”, he said, breaking the silence.

 

Kolivan returned it with a resigned sigh. “I won’t say that I like the idea”, they said. “But you’re right, we cannot fight two battles at the same time. And despite what my cousin thinks, at least the Alteans are still capable of _diplomacy_.”

 

Zarkon barked out a laugh, which surprised even himself.

 

“I probably should say that for Ranveig”, he smiled. “I bet he’d love that argument.”

 

Kolivan’s eyes turned sharp, and Zarkon barely caught it before his mate straddled his lap and ground their hips in a punishing manner. Caught off guard, Zarkon let out a moan.

 

“I do not wish to hear my cousin’s name while I’m with you”, Kolivan growled. Their breath was hot against his ears and their arms were caging his head possessively.

 

“Then you should work harder to make me scream yours”, Zarkon retorted with a smirk.

 

Kolivan took it as a challenge. In no time, they brought both of them into a blinding orgasm that left him boneless and breathless. Kolivan had to carry him to the drying room before laying him down gently on the bed.

 

“I’ve missed you”, Kolivan admitted as they nuzzled at his neck. “I know that you were only gone to the edge of our star system, but still I missed you.”

 

“And I you”, Zarkon returned. “There’s not a time when I don’t think about you.”

 

Cradling his mate’s body gently, he cupped his palm to the pouch on their belly, where _his_ clutch, his offspring, his _heir_ , was growing.

 

As sleep slowly took him, he swore to every fiber of his being that he would protect this small family of his and every other families who lived on Daibazaal.

 

—

 

Zarkon knew that the talk about the armistice was stressing Kolivan as much as it was to him. He knew that they’d been talking about it with their family, but judging from the expression they wore, it wasn’t hard to guess how the conversation went. For a while, he decided not to intrude on the family matter—the Lorians were highly private and only loyal to their own tribesfolk, and there was really nothing he could do about it.

 

That was, until he found his mate slumping over the communication console late in the cycle, head in the crook of their arms and their shoulders shaking in silent cry.

 

“Let’s… take a walk”, Zarkon said as gently as possible, his hand guiding them away from the console and out of their study.

 

The host star of Planet Daibazaal, Hili, was merely a thin line above the horizon when they reached the Celestial Garden and the air smelled like freshly fallen rain. It seemed that the rain season had truly arrived. Soon they would have _r’onna_ flowers blooming on the Garden.

 

Right now, small white buds were peeking from the darkened bushes surrounding the stone pathways. The morning dew clinging to the foliage glittered like jewels under the sunrise. The sight, normally, would at least make Kolivan smile.

 

Not now, it seemed, and Zarkon felt his stomach sink as he noticed the downcast expression on his mate’s face.

 

“They won’t listen to reason”, Kolivan’s voice was eerily calm as they spoke, and immediately Zarkon felt a surge of anger burning in his chest.

 

He tamped it down and decided to reason for once—him, defending the stubborn-headed Lorians! But Kolivan’s happiness was worth more than his pride, it had always been.

 

“They are still hurting”, he said.

 

“We lost so much when Loria was destroyed—our childhood home, our sacred grounds, our landmarks and historical places, our family and neighbors”, Kolivan whispered. “And we will lose so much more if Daibazaal is destroyed too. Is that what my family wants? For my child to grow without—without a _home?_ ”

 

Their loose hair danced around their face in the morning wind, like white curtains, like an aurora, and Zarkon combed it with his fingers before pulling them into a hug.

 

“Do not give up hope”, Zarkon whispered in their ears, even though the words tasted like a lie in his own tongue.

 

He was the Emperor of the United Galra People and his words had power. Even if his appeal for armistice with the Altean Alliance would fall in deaf ears, he would still make it happen, no matter what it would take.

 

A civil war might break and the Empire might crumble, but at the end of the day, they would still have their homeplanet until Hili went supernova.

 

—

 

Aside from Oradis, the Ndalu and Yarra kingdoms were the first to agree to an armistice. They were only two amongst many, but Zarkon was hopeful. Yarra was quite influential economically on Haelax Peninsula and Ndalu was one of the most advanced nation on Durmani Continent. Hopefully, both nations would influence many more to join the agreement.

 

More importantly, Yarra had close diplomatic relations with Loria and Dalvarik. The Yarrans had helped the Lorians and the Dalvarians, to rebuild after the destruction of their colony—and Zarkon no doubt was counting on that debt to be paid by joining the agreement.

 

“I hope that it will persuade my cousin", Kolivan said, before promptly passing out on Zarkon’s chest.

 

They were aboard Zarkon’s cruiser to visit Tormona, the main planet of Dalterian Union. It would take ten hyperjumps to get there, in the span of one _dralis_. The hyperjump was rough on Kolivan’s weakened condition. By the fifth jump, they had to be confined to the bed for the rest of the trip.

 

Zarkon pulled them into his arms and pressed soft kisses upon their forehead. The gestational period was rough for Kolivan—while Zarkon would try to make it easier for them, sometimes there were things that were beyond his control.

 

He wished they had better alternatives to travel across great distance. The Alteans had wormholes—something that Zarkon was infinitely envious of. The hyperjump that the Galra ships used could cover a sizable distance, but the hyperdrive generator required a lot of fuel and time to let it cool off after a jump. It was not ideal, but their technology had gotten better in the recent centuries.

 

Zarkon hoped that the armistice would kickstart a new era of technological advancement. He wondered, though, what the Alteans would want in exchange of their technology. The Galra had resources from various colonies, but what kind of resources would the Alteans want that they couldn’t get themselves?

 

Perhaps, Zarkon should offer their service in combat—but then he realized that the Alteans preferred the peaceful way… as hypocritical as that might be. The fact still stood that their peaceful way left dead bodies, destroyed homes, and resentful families in their path.

 

“It’s moving…” Kolivan’s voice brought him out of his musing.

 

“What is it, my love?” Zarkon turned and pressed a kiss upon his mate’s brow.

 

Kolivan’s eyes fell shut. “I can feel the clutch moving.”

 

And just like that, Zarkon had forgotten about all his worries, all his fears, and spent the rest of the morning kissing Kolivan’s belly pouch, whispering stories of the ancestors to their clutch. It was illogical, as the clutch was not developed enough to understand anything beyond their own shells, but Zarkon suspected that Kolivan was indulging him because of his irrationality.

 

“We should start thinking about names”, Zarkon suggested, his voice hoarse from sleep. His hand still curled over Kolivan’s belly pouch protectively.

 

“I’ve been thinking… Sincline, perhaps?” Kolivan asked between their contented purrs.

 

“Like the war hero?” Zarkon asked back.

 

Kolivan’s purrs paused. “I forgot that it also refers to that Jaluxian tale…” they admitted. “I was thinking about the galaxy.”

 

 _Ah_ , Zarkon realized what they had meant with the name they chose. Loria-9 Colony used to be in CX04-AF Galaxy, also known as Sincline Galaxy.

 

“Sincline…” Zarkon tested the name. “It _is_ a good name.”

 

—

 

As Zarkon predicted, more and more nations were joining the agreement for the armistice. Dalvarik, Hili, Andsur, and Torvost were some of the bigger nations that joined the agreement. Their decision heavily influenced smaller nations and Zarkon had never been so busy arranging everything, even with the help of his advisors.

 

Which was unfortunate, because his mate was getting so close to laying their clutch. Kolivan had been too weak to leave the nest bed, let alone to attend to their own needs. Zarkon was _extremely_ reluctant to leave them alone—pretty sure, he was even more clingy than his gestating mate, but well…

 

“I deserve a leave”, Zarkon mourned after a long diplomatic session with the Orosi, his arms winding around his mate’s body and his face buried in the furred blanket that covered Kolivan’s belly. “It should be a basic right to attend to your own mate’s clutch-laying. Why don’t we have a law about this? People deserve a mandatory leave!”

 

“Well, _avannisahr_ , you _are_ the emperor”, Kolivan said patiently. Their fingers scritched his head crown expertly—a skill learned from their years of marriage. Zarkon could feel his bones _melt_. “Emperors make laws.”

 

It took Zarkon a shamefully long time to fully realize what his mate—his beautiful, brilliant mate—was saying. It pulled him out of his boneless state in one tick flat and immediately he was up on his feet, causing Kolivan to yelp in surprise.

 

“You are—” Zarkon kissed Kolivan so hard he practically slammed his face to Kolivan’s from how excited he was, before pulling away as fast, leaving Kolivan absolutely befuddled. “Brilliant. _Dazzling_. I must go.”

 

He stormed out of their shared chambers, nearly toppling over servants in his haste. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought about it before! Now, none of his council members could say anything regarding to his absence—he had a mate to attend to!

 

The law was sanctioned in record time; that every citizen of the Galra Empire were entitled to attend to their mate’s needs nearing the end of their gestational period. When the law was made into public, Zarkon was feeding his mate some _plivik_ fruit, with heart too big in his chest and huge smile on his face.

 

He was thoroughly enjoying this much-deserved leave.

 

**—**

 

Gyrgan and Trigel came to stay for  _ Dral’Zeravis _ —the Day of Fertility. They would be attending the Planting Festival held at the hill of Mt. Evna, Zarkon’s hometown.

 

“We had to have a vote if we are to participate in the armistice and the majority agrees nine to one!” Gyrgan announced with a booming laugh, before pulling Zarkon into a tight embrace that caused his armor to creak ominously. Zarkon could feel his back plate and rib cage were being squeezed together.

 

“My people needed some convincing, but they eventually agreed despite… you know.” Trigel frowned.

 

The conflict between the Nalquodian and the Dalterian might not be as long as the conflict between the Nalquodian and the Galra, but it was just as _bloody_. Zarkon was actually surprised that the Dalterians were agreeing to the armistice at all.

 

Before he could say anything, Trigel perked back up like she always did when she was covering her turbulent emotions.

 

“Apparently, we all are eager to get our hands on that sleek Altean technology”, she laughed and gave Gyrgan’s massive arm a scolding slap. “Let him go, Gyr, you’re going to break his spine.”

 

Gyrgan sheepishly put Zarkon down, before turning his attention to Kolivan— more specifically, the little bundle on Kolivan’s chest. “Is this Little Sincline?” Gyrgan’s voice dropped into dramatic whisper.

 

“Do you want to hold them?” Kolivan asked, then laughed as Gyrgan’s face morphed into pure horror. Zarkon couldn’t blame him, he also felt a stab of fear—surely his mate wasn’t really offering Gyrgan to hold their newly-hatched cub?

 

As it turned out, Zarkon didn’t have to worry. Gyrgan was _extremely_ gentle when he was holding Sincline, even though the horror on his face still persisted. It was as if he was holding an extremely delicate bomb. Eventually, Sincline squeaked and flailed their tiny fists towards Kolivan, who immediately took them out of Gyrgan’s hands. Gyrgan visibly sagged in relief.

 

Eventually, Zarkon’s personal transport that would take them to Mt. Evna arrived. It would be a quick trip to the royal suite where they would stay for the duration of the Festival.

 

“They’re even smaller than I thought”, Trigel commented once all of them were seated.

 

“Fluffier too. It feels like holding a ball of _felaif_ fur”, Gyrgan added, before turning to Zarkon. “They look more like Kolivan than you, aren’t they?”

 

“They are, but we think he might grow hard plating here and there”, Zarkon nodded. There were soft tiny bumps already growing along the line of Sincline’s back that would grow into hard plating.

 

“I keep telling you that they got their coloring from you”, Kolivan said, bumping their head against the side of Zarkon’s crown. Zarkon sighed and was about to argue again.

 

“It’s true”, Trigel cut with a nod. “Sincline has darker color than Kolivan and different shade of blue, closer to yours than them.”

 

Right, the Dalterians had better color vision than even the Galra. Zarkon never thought that his skin color and Kolivan’s would be so different. It made him wonder just what exact shade of blue that his cub was, if it was rather a mix between his and Kolivan’s.

 

They continued to chat while Sincline slept through it all.

 

—

 

They arrived at the royal suite where they would be staying during the duration of _Dral’Zeravis_. Trigel’s Yelvarion Squad and Gyrgan’s Laghar Harum were already there, along with several Blade of Marmora members. Zarkon could see Antok amongst them, his face hidden behind the signature mask of the Marmoran.

 

The Laghar Harum’s famed gilded armor gleamed bright under the sunlight while the Yelvarion’s light armor were colorful and vibrant—compared to them, the Blade’s dark armor seemed to blend into the shadows, which suited them just well in Zarkon’s opinion.

 

As the leaders and Kolivan passed, the Yelvarion Squad slammed the butt of their spears to the floor and the Laghar Harum stomped their feet. The Blades, however, did nothing but stood up straight. Unmoving, they could easily be mistaken as statues.

 

“Can I just say that I always find the Marmoran armor quite disquieting?” Trigel said with a smile that looked more like a grimace.

 

“Why thank you!” Zarkon laughed. Next to him, Kolivan somehow managed not to preen.

 

The public only knew the Blade of Marmora as Zarkon’s personal guards, just like the Yelvarion Squad were to Trigel and Laghar Harum to Gyrgan. But the Blades were actually so much more than that—they were spies, first and foremost, as well as assassins and saboteurs. They were the most elite of the elite and to join their ranks was a great honor. They kept their faces and names secret to protect their identities.

 

No one except Zarkon and the members of their order knew that Kolivan was their leader, not even Kolivan’s family.

 

Speaking of Kolivan’s family—

 

The bulk of Ranveig’s figure was easily visible from afar and Zarkon was already internally groaning. Next to him, Kolivan stiffened just as Ranveig’s expression twisted into a mocking sneer.

 

“Emperor Zarkon”, Ranveig bowed politely, though Zarkon could hear the underlying sarcasm. Zarkon decided to ignore it—Ranveig had never made his displeasure for his marriage with Kolivan a secret. “And hello to you too, _Ni’tsi_.”

 

“Hello, cousin”, Kolivan replied mildly even as their brow twitched from irritation. Ranveig was deliberately using the wrong gendered form of address. “You look well.”

 

“No thanks to this heat. I don’t know how you can stand it”, Ranveig smiled at them, fangs flashing dangerously. “I brought a gift for my nurturing _ni’tsi_.”

 

His attendant, who was standing next to him, opened an ornate box with an equally ornate necklace inside. Fat purple gemstones hung from its center. Zarkon noticed the pattern used to craft the necklace and its significant purpose, but Ranveig beat him to it.

 

“Our Lorian ancestors used to give _ilvora_ jewelries for nurturing _mothers_. May it will bring you and the Emperor many healthy cubs.” He took Kolivan’s hand in his own and pressed a kiss that was way too long than what was appropriate.

 

If Zarkon didn’t want to kill Ranveig before this, he certainly did now, his fingers itching to _throw_ the incestuous filth over the railing and down the cliff where he could rot for eternity. But a gentle touch to his forearm stopped him, and he glanced at Kolivan, who was looking at Ranveig as if he was a bug under their feet.

 

“Thank you for this _thoughtless_ gift, cousin”, they said, accepting the box. “It’s certainly more beautiful than your disgusting personality.”

 

Ranveig laughed shamelessly, before heading into his own quarters.

 

“What a creep”, Gyrgan growled.

 

“That he is”, Kolivan replied calmly, shutting the box lid with their free hand, before handing it over to one of the Blades, not the servants. “Make this disappear.”

 

The Blade nodded wordlessly, before breaking away from the formation and disappeared around the corner. Their group moved again, away from Ranveig’s quarters.

 

“You don’t want to throw it out?” Trigel asked, brows raising.

 

“My family no doubt will want to see me in it, but they cannot blame me if the servants misplaced one or two of my jewelries”, Kolivan answered.

 

“Huh.” Trigel rubbed her chin. “You’re scary, you know that? You should teach me a thing or two.”

 

“But of course”, they smiled.

  
Zarkon couldn’t help but feel pride at their exchange— _of course_ his mate was scary. That was the reason why he married them, after all!


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the Planting Festival was less eventful, in Zarkon’s opinion. He chatted with several Galran leaders who attended the Festival and barely managed to not kill Ranveig. Gyrgan helped immensely by distracting Ranveig with talks about opening trades between Rygnirath and Lorian, while Trigel distracted Janka and Ladnok, who were Ranveig’s mates and also Commanders of the Fleet. 

 

The most interesting thing that happened afterwards was when he got roped into becoming a judge for a cooking contest. It was fun and since the contest was held in his hometown, almost everyone who participated knew about his preferred taste. In the end, Zarkon nearly cried when a group consisting of his old friends baked him a  _ nula-nula _ tart, which was his favorite growing up. The group won, in the end.

 

Of course, Zarkon met his family too. His _yeres_ , Zira, had already retired from their work a few _dralsa_ ago, but his _nuures_ was still on the Fleet. Apparently, one heart attack didn’t make Commander Diada consider early retirement. Most of Zarkon’s siblings had already given up on trying to convince her otherwise, though thankfully she mostly did desk duties these days.

 

“The Dai’Vortari simply don’t know how to give up”, Zarkon told Kolivan fondly as they walked together to the plot where the graves of both of his  _ vaares _ stood. Tuvak had died when Zarkon was a teen, while Commander Hirtuk had died along with the late Emperor Jarvax at the Front. Their bodies were buried in the family’s ground by the hill.

 

“Zira is well, at least”, Kolivan bumped their shoulder with his. Zira had announced loudly that they would be babysitting little Sincline for the _dral_ and nothing Kolivan said could persuade them otherwise.

 

“They should stop asking when I will give them _another_ grand-cub when I just gave them one!” Zarkon threw his hands up in the air. He knew that Zira meant well, but really…

 

Kolivan cleared their throat and gave him a flat look.

 

Zarkon grinned sheepishly and bumped his shoulder to theirs. “Right,  _ you  _ gave them one grand-cub.”

 

“Damn right”, Kolivan muttered. “What if I want another cub, though?”

 

Zarkon whipped his head towards his mate so fast he nearly slammed his head to Kolivan’s. “You can’t be serious?! Another cub? So soon?!”

 

When Kolivan simply gave him a cryptic smile, Zarkon could already feel dread consuming him entirely.

 

Stars help him.

 

— 

 

Before he knew it, the day of the peace talk with the Alteans was approaching fast and Zarkon felt like he was severely unprepared for it, despite having had help from his trusted advisors and Kolivan.

 

The planet that the Altean chose for the peace talk was called Rynfell, a multicultural hub for trading and leisure. Zarkon couldn’t even begin to understand how in the name of his ancestors the Alteans had so readily agreed to meet on such important planet. Weren’t they scared that the Galra would destroy it?

 

Per their agreement, the Galran, Dalterian, and Rygnir fleets were to wait above the orbit, while the leaders were allowed to be accompanied by a dozen of their own personal guards. They were all allowed to carry ceremonial weapons and nothing more—which meant the Marmoran blades, Yelvarion spears, and the Laghar Harum’s maces were all allowed, but plasma-based weapons were not.

 

Kolivan, of course, would be accompanying Zarkon, no matter how hard he argued otherwise. He thought it would be best for them to stay away in case the Alteans decided to assassinate him, but Kolivan had argued back that if Zarkon died, no matter who lit the Kral Zera, civil war would still erupt given how volatile the political environment in Daibazaal currently was—so that was that.

 

Kolivan was not alone in their worry. Ludav, the Yelvarion leader, and Diwari, the Laghar Harum leader, were also accompanying their respective rulers to Rynfell. 

 

“It’s so bright”, Trigel commented, covering her eyes with her hand. Ludav was standing behind her, hand on his spear. Zarkon, who already activated the shades on his crown, was inclined to agree. Behind him, Kolivan stood, their hands behind their back.

 

Gyrgan stepped off his ship, followed by Diwari, and immediately positioned himself at Trigel’s side. He didn't seem as affected as Zarkon and Trigel were to the planet’s binary stars—but then again his planet also orbited binary stars, one of which was even brighter than both of this planet’s host stars combined.

 

An Altean man stepped onto the platform. He had strange reddish hair on the top of his head and on his face, under his nose. He was even smaller than Trigel, the smallest one in their group, but then again, the Alteans had always been smallish.

 

“Greetings, Your Majesties! Prince-Consort Alfor and Proctor Blaytz have been waiting for you!” the Altean man chirped excitedly. “My name is Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, Altean Royal Advisor, but you can call me Coran!”

 

Zarkon gave him a confused blink. There was no way he could memorize that name, so he was grateful for the… nickname. Though he was questioning why the Alteans would send someone with such vibrant personality.

 

Coran didn’t seem to be fazed by the silence of the three leaders and bowed, one arm spreading to show the train that was already waiting for them. “This way, please. Careful with the steps! One slip will give you one  _ blorg-wuggle  _ of a fall.”

 

“A  _ what _ .” Trigel broke the silence by voicing what Zarkon was exactly thinking.

 

“A blorg-wuggle! It's a—well, I suppose you should see it to understand it. But it’s this tall!” Coran spread his arms in an approximation of the height of… whatever it was.

 

“It’s gibberish, Sire. It doesn’t translate to anything”, Kolivan whispered in Zarkon’s ears helpfully, and Zarkon eyed Coran. He wondered if this was some kind of ploy to lower their guard. But Coran seemed small, unassuming. Not a warrior, as far as he could tell. That didn’t mean he was not a master of deception, of course.

 

The four of them entered one of the carriages in silence, followed by their rest of their envoys. Two of the Yelvarion, Laghar Harum, and Blade of Marmora each took their respective ruler’s sides, one on each side. The two Blades who guarded Zarkon were, of course, Kolivan and Antok.

 

Zarkon turned his attention away from his mate and back to Coran.

 

“I was under the impression that Queen Melenor would be the one attending”, he said. He had heard about her husband, Prince-Consort Alfor, of course. But all he knew was that Alfor wasn’t interested in politics and pursued the path of science instead.

 

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately, Queen Melenor is in no condition to travel”, Coran answered, twirling the bizarre-looking hair on his face between his thumb and forefinger. Mustache—that was what it was called, a mustache. 

 

“Is she sick?” Trigel asked, and Zarkon was impressed by the genuine concern in her voice.

 

“No, it’s—ah”, Coran shifted on his seat uncomfortably. “It’s not something for polite conversation, Your Majesties. But you must understand that…” He leaned forward to the three world leaders, voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. “She’s having  _ sproggle _ .”

 

“Altean estrous cycle, Sire”, Kolivan supplied helpfully. Though their voice was barely audible, Coran turned his attention to them, twirling his mustache with something like a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

 

“Say, you are very knowledgeable about Altea, Mister…?”

 

“The Blade of Marmora are faceless and nameless soldiers”, Zarkon informed Coran.

 

“Heh. That is a very funny name!” Coran chuckled. “But well, surely you have a designation of your own? You dress differently than the other Blades. Are you the leader, then?”

 

_ Very perceptive _ , Zarkon mentally praised.

 

“I am”, Kolivan replied easily, their voice distorted enough by their mask to be unrecognizable. “You may call me Andu.”

 

“Andu, then”, Coran smiled. “Galran standard for ‘star’. Or should I say, Oradian? It’s not a popular name for an Oradian, is it? No, as far as I know, the only Galra who name their children after celestial objects were the Dalvarian, Yarran, and Lorian.”

 

Zarkon had to have shown something on his face, because Coran turned his attention back to him and he smile widened. “A Lorian, then. Curious, very curious.”

 

_ Correction _ , Zarkon cursed internally. Coran was  _ scarily  _ perceptive.

 

—

 

Coran entertained his guests by making bizarre comments about Rynfell every now and then. Zarkon listened with half an ear as he looked out of the window. By now, he was convinced that Coran was a spymaster sent by either Queen Melenor or Prince Alfor. For what purpose, he didn’t know yet.

 

The thought was… concerning, to say the least. Unlike Kolivan, he didn’t know anything about the Alteans. He didn’t know if Queen Melenor was truly… inconvenienced from attending the peace talk, or if she was merely using her husband to set up an elaborate trap. He was certainly not putting that above her.

 

Zarkon was glad once they entered the building, finally freed from Coran’s incessant chatter. The indoor lighting was bright, yes, but not as bright as it was outdoors. With a quick flick of his head, the shades covering his eyes went off, and he blinked a few times to readjust his vision.

 

Coran showed them and the rest of their ensemble the hall they would be staying. It was vast and lavishly decorated in signature Altean white-and-blue. Zarkon was amused to find his sleeping quarter was outfitted with a great bed meant for two and a small crib.

 

“I prepared the room with your small family in mind, Your Highness”, Coran smiled confidently, twirling his mustache.

 

“It’s… most thoughtful”, Zarkon commented. “Though unfortunately, my mate and our child could not accompany me, only my faithful Blades.”

 

“O-oh! Quiznak!” Coran’s eyes popped wide, before he turned his gaze to the Galran envoys. “You’re right! How silly of me!”

 

With a clap of his hands, the floor underneath the crib opened and the crib was gone. Kolivan moved into the room and checked the hidden trapdoor. “The room is not safe. I’ll accompany His Sublimity for the night.”

 

“I hope you are not offended with this?” Zarkon turned to the Altean man. He didn’t want to accuse the Alteans plotting to send an assassin to kill him while he was asleep, but the Blades were nothing but extremely cautious of his safety.

 

“No, no, no! No offense taken at all!” Coran chirped, before moving to the Dalterian and the Rygnir envoys. 

 

Meanwhile, Zarkon waggled his eyebrows towards Kolivan, whose face was still hidden behind their mask, a teasing smirk on his lips. He could practically see the eyeroll that they gave him, and had to resist bursting into laughter.

 

— 

 

Once refreshments were given and food was eaten, Coran then led them all into a great hall, with a circular table stood at the center. Faint fragrance wafted into his senses as soon as he entered the room; he noted that it came from the flowers decorating the room. Altea and Nalquod banners hung on the wall, along with banners of several other planets under their Alliance.

 

But only Alfor and Blaytz were sitting on the table, waiting for them. Zarkon wondered if the Alliance unanimously agreed to partake in the armistice, as he took the seat right across to Alfor. Trigel and Gyrgan each took his sides, as per usual, followed by the rest of their ensemble.

 

There was a brief silence that Zarkon used to observe the two world leaders in front of him. Alfor was calm and smiling—Zarkon couldn’t truly read him, but he dared to say that the Altean man seemed to be excited. Was it at the prospect of the armistice? He had something that he wanted from either the Galra, the Rygnir, or the Dalterians, and Zarkon hoped that it was something that they truly could give.

 

_ No _ , Zarkon noted the way his eyes seemed to focus solely on  _ him _ . Just the Galra, then. Well, there was no use to worry about that. He would find out soon enough, so he turned his attention to Proctor Blaytz.

 

A complete opposite to Alfor, Blaytz had his arms crossed over his chest as he was staring at Zarkon with pure contempt. The hatred was mutual.

 

“Well”, Alfor began, breaking the tense silence so abruptly that Zarkon reeled slightly. “We already know each other. I think. And we also know why we’re here.”

 

Not a diplomat, straight to the point. Zarkon liked him already.

 

“The armistice, yes”, Zarkon nodded.

 

“Well, I refuse! Goodbye, all of you should leave now!” Blaytz slung his legs over the table and put his hands behind his head with such arrogance that suddenly it was so  _ tempting _ to snap his neck.

 

“Blaytz…” Alfor sighed. Blaytz turned his head away from Alfor and spat.

 

“The Galra cannot be trusted! The moment you agree to the armistice, his fleet will raze your planet to ashes, isn’t that right?” Blaytz threw Zarkon a fierce glare.

 

“The same applies to  _ you _ , you filthy fish!” Trigel raged, her fists clenched tight. “You  _ enslaved _ my people for centuries and destroyed our culture!”

 

“Ah yes, I reckon I still have some Dalterian slaves”, Blaytz flashed his sharp fangs. “Too bad they couldn’t breathe underwater, so we made them  _ better _ .”

 

“ _ You scoundrel! _ ” Trigel unsheathed her claws—long and curved, infused with enhanced venom. Zarkon knew how deadly it was. Her head tendrils flared around her head like a halo as she stood in battle stance. Blaytz too unsheathed the blades that he was carrying. At the blatant threat to their Grand-Magister, the Yelvarions immediately unfolded their spears and pointed them at Blaytz.

 

“SILENCE!” Zarkon, Gyrgan, and Alfor shouted at the same time. Alfor, though, had made himself bigger—even bigger than Gyrgan. Altean shapeshifting; it seemed Alfor was one of those rare Alteans who possessed the ability.

 

“I will let this instance slide because you are my friend, Blaytz. But if you keep goading them, I will remove you from this room”, Alfor spoke, all trace of smile gone from his face. He turned to the royal guards standing behind Zarkon, Trigel, and Gyrgan. “Are all of your guards carrying weapons? I thought this is meant to be a peace talk.”

 

“Ceremonial weapons are allowed, per the agreement”, Gyrgan replied snidely.

 

“That’s… Well, alright. That’s fair.” Alfor rubbed his face tiredly.

 

“Put your claws away, Trig”, Zarkon told his friend.

 

For a moment, it seemed that both Trigel and Blaytz were considering if it would be worth it to rip each other’s throat. None of them moved, until Trigel and Blaytz put their weapons away and slunk back into their chairs, the Yelvarions followed suit. Gyrgan and Alfor slumped on their seats, letting out long exhales as they did. Zarkon gave Trigel a comforting nod.

 

“Well, now that’s out of the way”, Alfor cleared his throat. “The Alteans believe in spreading peace and stability through diplomacy. I can understand why people might be anxious with this armistice, for we have been warring for centuries, but I want to hear your reasons.”

 

_ You, or your wife? _ Zarkon wanted to ask, but refrained himself.

 

“Last year, our sensors caught an unidentified object heading to Daibazaal. It is an asteroid, one that will destroy all life if it strikes our planet”, he said instead. “So far, all of our attempts to destroy it have been futile.”

 

He lifted his head up slightly and focused on Alfor. “I know that our people are not on the best of terms, to put it lightly. But I cannot—no, I  _ will not _ allow my people to perish.”

 

Alfor’s brows furrowed, a frown on his face. For a moment, Zarkon felt his hope dashed, that Alfor would deny his offer, and his people would face certain destruction. 

 

But then, Alfor spoke. “The Alteans strive for preservation of life, no matter how misguided or  _ evil _ . We will help you through this hardship.”

 

Although deep down he was disturbed by Alfor’s wording, Zarkon tried to bury it with relief. His people still had a chance, after all.

 

“Now, shall we discuss the terms of the armistice?” Zarkon asked.

 

“Of course.” Alfor gave him a nod. “First thing first, we will remove our forces out of the colony worlds—”

 

“I disagree!” Blaytz cut off with a vicious hiss. “Alfor, we talked about this—my people  _ need  _ those colony worlds. They yield important commodities and they are located at strategic spots for trades.”

 

“Blaytz, please—” Alfor tried to placate the Nalquodian, but Trigel interrupted him.

 

“You’re  _ stealing  _ from my people!” she snapped. “This armistice is a sham if you refuse to pull your forces out of  _ my  _ planets!”

 

“Trigel, please”, Zarkon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “As much as this is about saving my people from certain extinction, I agree that this armistice would be for nothing if you don’t pull out your forces. The Dalterians have suffered enough under the Nalquodian’s regime.”

 

Blaytz crossed his arms and hissed, and Trigel returned his hissing just as viciously.

 

“What kind of commodities that you need?” Gyrgan spoke up all of a sudden. “Perhaps the Rygnirs can arrange a trade with the Nalquodians.”

 

“Decalithium ore”, Blaytz answered, looking sceptical. “Among other things.”

 

“We have an excess of decalithium ore that we can trade with whatever commodities you can offer to us, be it goods or service”, Gyrgan said.

 

Blaytz scratched his chin contemplatively at that, before nodding. “That is agreeable, I suppose. Fine, I’ll pull out my forces as long as you can keep a steady stream of decalithium ore.”

 

Zarkon sighed in relief, before patting Gyrgan’s shoulder in gratitude. He didn’t know what he would do without his friends.

 

“Well, now that one problem’s off the table”, Alfor said, stroking his beard. “My terms are for the Galra to build rings orbiting Planet Altea. They will be used as research facilities, so they need to be structurally sustainable and self-reliant, separate from the planet surface.”

 

“Rings? As in orbital rings?” Zarkon asked.

 

“The people of Galra are very good at building things”, Alfor praised with a smile. “I’ve seen things you built—they are  _ magnificent _ . In my opinion, building these orbital rings is a task only your people can complete.”

 

That was a high praise coming from an Altean alchemist as renowned as Alfor. Zarkon tapped his claws on the table. While he was not an engineer himself, he knew that the rings would be a massive project. Regardless of how many rings Alfor wanted to build, the construction itself would take years, if not decades.

 

“If you agree to assist us with the asteroid, I will gather builders and engineers to start the project immediately”, he told Alfor. 

 

“That is agreeable”, Alfor nodded. “Do not worry about the accommodations. I will provide proper housing and amenities for your builders and engineers. They will be treated respectfully, like we treat our own citizens.”

 

“Very well, then”, Zarkon concluded. “How will you assist us with our asteroid problem?”

 

Alfor was quiet for a bit before answering. “Well, I assume, first thing we’ll do is to send a ship to give it a thorough, detailed scan because, no offense, our scanners are better than the Galran ones.”

 

“None is taken”, Zarkon said, although he felt mildly offended at that. His ships were the  _ best  _ in their sector space, thank you very much, but then the Alteans came from another sector in the name of exploration.

 

And now, after centuries of war and conflict, here they were.

 

In a way, Zarkon was feeling rather proud that he managed to do what his predecessors couldn’t: securing an alliance with the Alteans. Their war had been long and arduous, and a waste of resources too as they were fighting a losing battle. The alliance was a long time coming and now that the war had ended, the people of Galra could focus on improving their technology with the help of their Altean allies.

 

Of course, Zarkon was not so disillusioned to think that the alliance would last forever. There was still a lot of bad blood between them—and Zarkon feared that once the asteroid was taken care of (or destroyed), the war would break once again. But he supposed he wouldn’t worry about that until the asteroid problem was taken care of.

 

After that, the talk wound down as they hashed out the last details of the terms of the armistice. The Alteans, unfortunately, didn’t need anything from the Rygnirs and the Dalterians. However, Alfor still wanted to arrange trades between their people—apparently, the Alteans loved new things from other civilizations, so there would be a steady market for the Dalterians and the Rygnirs to sell in exchange for Altean technology.

 

Blaytz continued to be difficult and antagonized Trigel every now and then, even after the warning from Alfor and getting what he wanted from the Rygnirs. Zarkon had a sneaking suspicion that Blaytz was doing it for  _ fun _ , which would be hilarious in other situation. Except, Trigel was ready to murder the Nalquodian on the spot, if Zarkon and Gyrgan were not there to hold her back. In the end, Alfor called for a recess so they all could relax for a bit.

 

“This is so ridiculous”, Zarkon grumbled as he stomped away from the others and into a secluded alcove. Kolivan—still in their armor and mask—trailed behind him in silence. “That Nalquodian is so ridiculous.”

 

Kolivan was still silent, so Zarkon turned sharply to face them. “You may speak, you know.”

 

“I know”, Kolivan answered, voice almost robotic and unrecognizable through the mask, though Zarkon could detect something like exasperation behind that voice. “I am simply waiting for your tantrum to be over.”

 

Zarkon took a deep breath, ready to go into a tirade about how he was absolutely not throwing a tantrum,  _ thank you very much _ —before realizing how it would only prove Kolivan’s point. He blushed purple, before clearing his throat. “Take off your mask.”

 

Kolivan was not expecting that.

 

“What?” They tilted their head.

 

“Take off your mask, come on”, Zarkon urged, more urgently.

 

Kolivan took off their mask with a flick of their head; they were still wearing their hood and nobody could see their face from this angle. Quickly, Zarkon pressed his lips to theirs, before grinning smugly. “Done. Now I feel much better.”

 

Zarkon could see the telltale blush on Kolivan’s face before they put their mask back on.  _ Cute _ , he thought.

 

“Are you ready to rejoin the others now?” Kolivan asked, before adding, almost seductively. “Your Sublimity?”

 

“I think so”, Zarkon replied, as he swaggered back to where Trigel and Gyrgan were sitting, and Coran regaling them with some kind of story. He leaned back to his seat and huffed, arms crossing.

 

Maybe he could suffer to sit through one diplomatic meeting. As long as Kolivan was with him.

 

—

 

Afterwards, Coran, Alfor, and Blaytz led Zarkon, Gyrgan, and Trigel, along with the rest of their envoys to an indoor garden with open roof. A single large tree stood in the middle of it, its golden-flecked branches reaching up to the sky.

 

“ _ Fellen _ tree”, Alfor said. “A rare Altean tree. Our ancestors believed its fruits bestow good health and longevity. Of course, that was a myth, but the fruit still tastes pretty good.”

 

A servant walked by carrying a tray of what Zarkon guessed was the aforementioned fruit. It was small and black with golden specks on its skin. Alfor plucked one of them before popping it into his mouth. Next to him, Blaytz followed suit.

 

Trigel moved to reach one of the fruits. Her Yelvarion Squad seemed to want to stop her from putting it into her mouth, but she was faster. She chewed quietly and gave a nod to Gyrgan and Zarkon.

 

At that, Zarkon plucked one of the fruits and sniffed it. It smelled fragrant, like freshly fallen flowers, and Zarkon didn’t hesitate to put it into his mouth. It was slightly sour, but once Zarkon chewed it, sweetness burst inside his mouth like a supernova. Its intensity made him wince, though he somehow managed to give Alfor a weak smile.

 

“Dalterians have higher tolerance to poison”, Blaytz piped with a nasty smirk on his face. “Which makes torturing them all more fun.”

 

Trigel glared at the Nalquodian and looked like she was going to jam the fruit in her hand into his eye socket. Zarkon sighed, but before he could say anything, Alfor stepped in between the two.

 

“Blaytz, get out”, the Altean Prince said.

 

“W—wait, what?” Blaytz spluttered.

 

“I warned you not to antagonize them further, but you refuse to listen to reason”, Alfor explained sternly. 

 

“Oh come on, Alfor! You know as much as I am that as soon as you’re done helping the Galra, these damned  _ ykliik _ will raze your homeplanet to the ground!” Blaytz spat out, gesturing at Zarkon, Gyrgan, and Trigel. 

 

Zarkon could feel a growl threatening to rise from his chest, but a brush of hand coming from Kolivan calmed him down almost immediately. He could not afford to lose his temper, not now—not before the treaties were finalized.

 

Failing to get a rise out of them, Blaytz left with a hiss, slamming the door behind him. Trigel visibly relaxed without the Nalquodian within her eyesight, and Gyrgan rubbed his face with his large hand.

 

“By Willow. That was… something”, Gyrgan said with a low voice.

 

“Tell me about it…” Zarkon returned with a sigh.

 

— 

 

Zarkon, Gyrgan, and Trigel returned to their respective chambers; Zarkon was exhausted to his bones, but hopeful. The war was finally over and his people had a chance for survival. It still felt like a dream that the peace talk went as smoothly as it did, and Zarkon couldn’t wait to deliver the good news to his Galran leaders.

 

But that could be done  _ later. _ For now, all he wanted was a quiet night with his mate, though he knew that was impossible. Kolivan would never take off their mask when they were on guarding duty, and Zarkon couldn’t be so openly affectionate with one of his guards.

 

With a deep, deep sigh, Zarkon sank into the warm water. The Altean’s concept of bathing involved a communal warm water bath and a zero gravity pool (which Zarkon politely asked to be turned off, asking for a normal pool instead). The warm water and the communal bath thing were weird, but it wasn’t like his first time experiencing it—communal bath in hot springs was somewhat a requirement to enter a Lorian house, and Zarkon had been subjected to it whenever he visited Kolivan’s homeland.

 

Thinking about Loria left a pang in his chest. By agreeing to the armistice, Zarkon had spat at the memory of those who were lost during the destruction of Loria. The Alteans had razed the planet and now he was making peace with them. Sure, he had done it to ensure the survival of the rest of his people, but the Lorians were  _ also _ his people. Ranveig’s anger and grudge was justified, in a sense, though Zarkon would never agree to it to the man out loud.

 

Zarkon sighed again. He wished Kolivan was here, with him in the bath. There were so many things he wanted to talk to his mate about. He missed having Kolivan’s counsel whenever he needed, even though it only had been a few  _ dral _ .

 

Soft footsteps pulled Zarkon away from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Alfor, dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. His dark brown skin was streaked with neon blue markings, which glowed slightly through the steam, and his body was… well,  _ attractive _ was one way to describe it. 

 

At the thought, Zarkon flushed and averted his eyes. While polygamy was not unheard of in Galran culture, Zarkon and Kolivan had agreed not to take another lover until they were settled enough—besides, Alfor was a married man, and Zarkon didn’t know enough about Altean culture to know if they were fine with multiple lovers.

 

Zarkon sat so still that the water was only disturbed when Alfor entered the bath. To make things even more awkward, the Altean man sat next to him as if they hadn’t been enemies for centuries before today.

 

“I apologize on Blaytz’s behalf”, Alfor spoke suddenly. Zarkon pulled his attention back to the Altean man. “His grudge is… justified.”

 

_ Right _ . Blaytz’ father, Proctor Blyvex, had been killed by Zarkon’s predecessor, Emperor Jarvax. That particular battle was so gruesome that by the end of it, Emperor Jarvax’s ship had been so damaged and exploded not long after.

 

“My father was on Emperor Jarvax’s ship when it went down”, Zarkon returned, his eyes meeting with Alfor’s. “I have my own grudge, but I also have responsibility to my people. Why can’t he do the same?”

 

“I cannot say”, Alfor said with a sigh. “All I can say is… give him time. He’ll come around for sure.”

 

“And if he cannot?”

 

Alfor’s brows furrowed as he frowned. “Then he’s out of the Alliance. Simple as that.”

 

Zarkon didn’t know what to say at that—the alliance between the Alteans and the Nalquodians was forged in wars and hardships. And now that the war was over, could it be that their alliance was no longer necessary?


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was a noisy, but peaceful affair, and Zarkon finally had the chance to observe the Altean Alliance without the negative presence of the Nalquodians. 

 

The Alteans were a noisy lot, though not as noisy as Coran, who had become the center of attention as soon as the party started. Right now, the Altean man was telling bizarre tale about him fighting something that he called a ‘fashion pirate’. It was as outrageous as it sounded. 

 

Zarkon sighed and shook his head, before joining his friends. Without Blaytz antagonizing her, Trigel appeared to be more relaxed than she had been during the peace talk. Gyrgan was with her as they chatted up some Altean traders. Zarkon was not in the mood to arrange some trade and decided it would be best that he left it in the hands of his capable diplomats.

 

As he made rounds around the room, Zarkon briefly wondered if the war against the Nalquodians would still be going on after this. He supposed he had to be prepared if the Nalquodians attacked. He didn’t have the chance to mull it over, however, when Kolivan gave him a signal that Alfor was approaching.

 

“Let me introduce you to someone”, Alfor said as he walked over, and before Zarkon knew it, the Altean man was dragging him across the room. “This… is Val’Haean vis Honerva, the best Altean alchemist we have.”

 

The one who was called Honerva was a small Altean woman with dark grey hair. Her markings were red and her eyes were sharp and golden. Just as Zarkon gave her a once-over, she was also giving him an observant look, as if she was judging him based on his appearance, and Zarkon felt a stirring of something inside his gut.

 

“Greetings, Your Majesty”, Honerva gave him a nod—just a  _ nod _ , not even a bow, and Zarkon raised his eyebrows at Alfor.

 

“Honerva will be the one leading the team assisting you and your people with your asteroid problem”, Alfor said, looking slightly resigned. “She was practically jumping at the opportunity when I mentioned that the asteroid is made from material not yet known to us.”

 

“I… see”, Zarkon muttered as he turned his attention back to Honerva.

 

“Isn’t it  _ exciting? _ Not everyday we find a whole new material! Imagine the possibility if we can harness it into something  _ amazing _ ”, she exclaimed, eyes lighting up like the brightest suns.

 

Oh.  _ Oh no _ , Zarkon knew exactly what he was feeling.

 

“Well, as long as it’s not going to destroy my planet, I don’t care what you’re going to harness it into”, he said as calmly as he could. “Apologies, I must go now.”

 

With that, he left the two Alteans and disappeared from the dining hall, Kolivan following him as he did. As soon as he was alone, Zarkon let out a great sigh before turning to face his mate. Even with their mask on, Zarkon could somewhat tell that they were staring at him, judging him.

 

“Don’t laugh”, Zarkon pouted.

 

“I’m not”, Kolivan said, though Zarkon could detect amusement in their voice. “Am I correct in guessing that you are, at this very moment, experiencing a budding infatuation towards that Altean woman?”

 

“ _ Don’t laugh _ ”, Zarkon repeated, feeling heat creeping up his face. He rubbed his face resignedly. Usually, he could handle Kolivan's teasing better, but not now. Right now, his crush was still too new, too abstract to grasp. Zarkon didn't even know why he was suddenly feeling this way. 

 

“It’s her eyes, isn’t it?” Kolivan was positively  _ gleeful _ , Zarkon just could tell, and they hit the nail on the head without even trying. “Her beautiful golden eyes that shone like stars.”

 

Zarkon groaned and rubbed his face once again. “How can you be so calm about this? Aren’t you  _ jealous? _ ”

 

He could see Kolivan moving from his peripheral vision and into his line of sight. Their hands were gentle as it tugged at Zarkon’s robe, straightening the  fabric that had become disheveled when Zarkon fled the room earlier.

 

“You know that I will never stand between you and your feelings, my dear”, Kolivan said. “I love you, and I know that you love me back. But I do not own you, and your feelings are your own.”

 

Zarkon wanted to kiss Kolivan so badly, to make love with them to show how much he loved them. But not now— not in this strange Altean building. Certainly not in the hallway where anyone could stumble into them (and Zarkon certainly didn’t feel a different kind of stirring at that thought).

 

“She’s an Altean”, Zarkon argued weakly.

 

“And you are Non-Lorian”, Kolivan countered. “Our wedding has always been the most unconventional, and yet that didn’t stop us.”

 

“That’s different”, Zarkon frowned. “ _ This _ is different.”

 

“Same difference”, Kolivan shrugged. “You are free to chase anyone you want, but never forget that I will  _ always _ be there for you.”

 

This time, Zarkon didn’t hold back. Gently, he cupped the side of Kolivan’s face and placed a short kiss to the top of their mask where Zarkon knew the red spot on their forehead was.

 

— 

 

Zira had been staying at the Star-Palace to babysit little Sincline while Zarkon and Kolivan were gone. When Zarkon arrived, his old  _ nuures _ took one look at his face, before clicking their tongue.

 

“Your bad mood and exhaustion will affect little Sincline!” Zira half-shouted half-whispered as they ushered both Zarkon and Kolivan out of the nursery. Then, they slammed the door right on their face, much to Zarkon’s befuddlement.

 

He was the  _ emperor _ of this palace, for stars’ sake. And he’d been missing his hatchling so dearly.

 

“Well…” Kolivan broke the silence, turning their face to Zarkon with a lecherous smirk on their face. “How about we take a bath?”

 

They reached the bathing chamber in record time and Kolivan helped Zarkon strip out of his armor. The water was cold and refreshing, and the longer they stayed in the bath, the more Zarkon could feel life slowly seeping back into himself. It was  _ heavenly _ . Zarkon would’ve stayed in the bath forever if he could.

 

“Turn over”, Kolivan commanded. Zarkon obeyed, before he groaned when he felt Kolivan’s hands on his back. It helped to ease the tension he had been carrying since before the peace talk and Zarkon practically could feel himself melting into his mate’s touch.

 

“You did a great job, my love”, Kolivan whispered in his ears, causing shivers to run down his spine—in a good way, of course. “Now, let me take care of you.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Zarkon lay on the bed in the afterglow, with Kolivan peacefully snoring right next to him. Their hair was undone and in disarray, draping over their shoulders like white curtains.

 

Carefully, Zarkon pressed a kiss to Kolivan’s temple, before settling down to sleep.

 

— 

 

A few  _ dral _ later, Honerva gave him a list of things the Alteans would need for the project. It consisted of things the Galra had to provide to accommodate roughly a hundred Altean alchemists, engineers, and scientists.

 

Zarkon contacted his builders and ordered them to build Altean facilities beyond the borders of Oradis Oasis as soon as he received said list. The facilities consisted of laboratories and living spaces; and while the Alteans were capable of wormholing back and forth between Altea and Daibazaal, the living spaces were for when they were staying on Daibazaal for the duration of their project. The facility was finished just in time for an Altean ship to arrive, a few  _ dralis _ later.

 

Zarkon found Honerva at the dock, where the equipment was being unloaded, and she was observing everything with her hands on her hips. A strange creature was sitting by her leg, dark blue and orange in color, and Zarkon wondered what it was. Before he could ask, however, Honerva turned and gave him a polite smile.

 

“Hello, Your Majesty. Thank you for providing accommodations for my scientists”, she said. “The facility looks amazing and I can't wait to start the project.”

 

“It’s the least I can do. For now”, Zarkon returned, before stepping aside. “Honerva, meet my mate, Kolivan of the Nakea Sea Tribe. My Love, this is the Altean alchemist I told you about. Her name is Honerva.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Honerva.” Kolivan offered their hand, which Honerva took.

 

“Pleasure to meet you too, Lord Consort”, she returned.

 

“My leaders have been waiting for you. Shall we head to the Palace?” Zarkon asked.

 

Honerva’s shoulders stiffened, but she gave him a polite nod as she answered, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

 

Honerva bent down briefly to pick up the strange creature by her feet and handed it to an Altean standing nearby. They talked quickly in rapid-fire Altean language, before she rejoined Zarkon and Kolivan. 

 

Zarkon guided her and his mate into a carriage that was waiting for them; Honerva eyed the Blades by the transport, and Zarkon briefly could see fear in those strange golden eyes. She didn’t say anything, however, and the three of them entered the carriage.

 

“What do you think of Daibazaal, Honerva?” Kolivan asked as soon as the carriage began to move.

 

“It’s… not what I expected, I admit”, Honerva answered. “Everything is very  _ red _ .”

 

Kolivan let out a chortle. “It is, isn’t it?” When Honerva gave them an odd look, Kolivan continued, “I was born and raised on one of the colony worlds. The first time I set foot on Daibazaal, I wondered why everything was so red.”

 

“Did you find out why?” Honerva asked, almost eagerly.

 

“I did”, Kolivan smiled. “I’m a bit of a scientist myself, you see.”

 

Honerva seemed to be delighted when she found out that Kolivan had graduated from the renowned Axocarian Science Academy. They went into a heated discussion about how the plants on Daibazaal seemed to lack chlorophyll. Zarkon tried to follow the conversation at first, but they quickly went into the topic of biochemistry and he found himself at lost. 

 

In the end, he focused his attention on his mate and Honerva, watching them both for the tics and quirks they displayed. He already knew all of Kolivan’s tics, but Honerva was a new subject for him to observe—and Zarkon enjoyed watching her. 

 

She would occasionally twirl her finger into her loose hair as she listened to Kolivan’s explanation, her eyes bright with keen interest. Her fingers would tap her knee as if she was typing on an invisible datapad, and she would bite the bottom of her lips as if she was trying hard not to interrupt Kolivan.

 

Before they knew it, the carriage arrived at the Star-Palace. Zarkon helped Kolivan out of the carriage, before doing the same to Honerva. Honerva looked confused for a bit, but her expression smoothed out into a neutral one.

 

“I’ll meet you later for lunch”, Kolivan said out loud, pressing their forehead to Zarkon’s before heading to their private wing, no doubt to change into their Marmoran uniform. Living a double life like that seemed exhausting, but Kolivan could do it flawlessly.

 

An aide came and led Zarkon and Honerva to the conference hall, where the other Galran leaders were already waiting for them on the holostream. Kolivan rejoined them not long after, dressed in their full Blade of Marmora uniform and mask. 

 

The aide called for the leaders’ attention and the holostream fell into a static silence. As he stepped onto the podium, Zarkon could see Honerva stiffening in his peripheral vision. 

 

“As you all already know, the Alteans have accepted our plea for aid and sent a team of alchemists and engineers to assist us”, Zarkon began. “And now, let me introduce you to Val’Haean vis Honerva. She will be leading the team of Altean researchers.”

 

“Greetings, Galran leaders”, Honerva began. “My name is Val’Haean vis Honerva, Master Alchemist. It is my greatest honor to assist you in your current predicament about the asteroid.”

 

“What is your plan to assist us?” the Yarran king asked. “What kind of plan do you have that we haven’t already done?”

 

“Well, first thing first, we will need to understand more about the asteroid—”

 

“We already spent a  _ year _ trying to understand it and yet we are not yet coming close to understanding it”, the Dalvarik Republic president interrupted. “How can you hope to understand it better than us?”

 

“Our scanners are better—”

 

“Can you believe this muck-blooded  _ likpek? _ ” Ranveig’s voice boomed above the other leaders’. “She insulted our technology!”

 

Angry murmurs spread as the leaders agreed to Ranveig’s words. This was getting out of hand, Zarkon thought. The leaders were going to tear Honerva to shreds if he didn’t put a stop to it. He caught Honerva swaying slightly before she composed herself.

 

“I thought I was standing here right now, right before you all, because you have accepted that your current technology cannot help you in your predicament. I thought the very reason you pleaded for our aid is because you  _ admitted _ that our technology is way more advanced than yours”, she said, her voice ringing loud and clear in the conference hall. The angry murmurs increased in volume as more Galran leaders expressed their outrage, and Zarkon gaped at the small Altean woman before him.

 

She was not even done  _ yet _ .

 

“If you think I will stand here and be silent as you throw slurs at me, well forgive me, but my expertise is needed elsewhere”, she continued. “Now, do you need our help or not? Please decide before the asteroid strikes your homeplanet and destroys everything you hold dear.”

 

With that, she withdraw herself from the podium, arms crossed over her chest like a barricade. Zarkon leaned forward and gave the thoroughly chastised leaders a silent glare.

 

“That is all. Zarkon out.”

 

The holostream was cut off, and Honerva let out a heavy sigh.

 

That was a rather disastrous start, Zarkon thought.

 

—

 

After the meeting, Zarkon and Kolivan sat by the pond on the Celestial Garden, where the servants had set up a table for their lunch. 

 

The weather was really nice today. It had drizzled earlier, making the grass below their feet wet. Titter-birds fluttered above their heads as they made nest on nearby trees.  _ R’onna _ flowers were in full bloom, and they filled the air with a fresh, fragrant scent. What a perfect scene, in contrast to Zarkon's day so far.

 

“That could have been worse”, Kolivan said once the servants were gone.

 

“Could have been better, too”, Zarkon sighed, as he helped Kolivan cut their meat into little bite-sized cubes. Kolivan plucked one of the meat cubes and popped it into their mouth, and Zarkon was distracted for a moment as they sucked their fingers clean. “Stop that.”

 

“Whyever for?” Kolivan asked with an innocent smile.

 

“Stars, you’re incorrigible…” Zarkon muttered before drinking his  _ hraljata _ . The drink was warm and invigorating, and Zarkon couldn't help to pour himself some more.

 

“She’s rather fierce, isn’t she? I’ve never witnessed a mass-murder as gruesome as that before”, Kolivan said. “I think I understand now why you like her.”

 

“I don’t—” Zarkon paused, sighing again. “I thought we agreed not to take another lover just yet.”

 

“Well, she clearly has your attention, and it’s getting rarer to get your attention these days”, Kolivan said with a shrug. “She’s brave and intelligent, and I enjoyed my discussion with her immensely. Not to mention that I already gave you my permission to court her. What else do you need?”

 

“I don’t know… time, I guess? Isn’t it too sudden?” Zarkon asked. “My people and hers were at war just a few months ago, and now we’re not.”

 

“My people and yours were at war just a few months before we were married”, Kolivan countered. “If time is what you need, I will cease bothering you about it, for now. But never forget that you’ll always have my support.”

 

“I know. Thank you”, Zarkon said, placing his hand over Kolivan’s.

 

“At least invite her for lunch”, Kolivan added.

 

Zarkon spilled his  _ hraljata _ .

 

—

 

No matter how many times Zarkon tried, he couldn’t get to make his robe to sit properly on his broad chest, and he was beginning to get irritated. Thankfully, Kolivan decided on that moment to enter the chamber, little Sincline in a sling over their chest; and it only took them one understanding look at him before they walked closer.

 

“Where would I be without you”, Zarkon said, giving Kolivan’s cheek a quick nuzzle.

 

“Dead, probably”, Kolivan said with a morbid smile as their hands moved to fix Zarkon’s robe. “Remember that assassination attempt five  _ dralsa _ ago? Or two  _ dralsa _ ago?”

 

“Riiight”, Zarkon drawled—Kolivan had saved him on both occasions, and perhaps many other occasions that he didn’t know about. “My strong mate, my brave mate.”

 

“My not-so-punctual mate”, Kolivan returned, giving Zarkon’s chest a quick pat. “You are going to be late, my dear.”

 

Zarkon winced. “I know.”

 

“Come on then.” Kolivan ushered Zarkon out of their chambers and walked side by side with him. They headed towards one of the balcony that overlooked the gardens, which Kolivan picked because it was less formal than the dining hall with its circular table. Kolivan had been adamant that Honerva would appreciate the less-than-formal setting.

 

Honerva arrived just as the servants were finished serving appetizers. She was dressed in a simple light blue dress with frills covering her chest and her hair was done in a tight bun behind her head. She looked rather plain, yet there was something elegant about the practicality of her attire. She was a scientist, someone who worked with her hands.

 

“Greetings, Your Majesties.” She gave Zarkon a slight bow before taking a seat across Zarkon. “I cannot thank you enough for your invitation. But may I ask, what is the purpose of this… affair?”

 

Straight to the point. She was most certainly not a diplomat, alright, and her concision reminded him of Alfor somewhat. Zarkon wondered if that was the reason why Alfor chose her to lead his team of scientists, instead of picking someone who was more diplomatic.

 

“This is merely a social affair, Honerva”, Kolivan replied with a smile. “We’ll be working together for years to come. I thought it would be best if we got know each other.”

 

“I see…” Honerva nodded confusedly, before her eyes moved to scan the table. An array of Galran food was spread before the three of them, and Honerva looked a little lost.

 

A slight nudge from his side made Zarkon turn slightly to Kolivan, who was eyeing him and the food. Zarkon felt his heart skip a beat as he understood what his mate was trying to convey.

 

“Let me”, Zarkon immediately stood to his feet and grabbed a pitcher of  _ vokta _ .

 

It was unthinkable to do—an emperor serving food to an outsider. But serving food to one’s intended was the first step of Altean courting. Kolivan had given him a crash course to Altean culture, and it was so bizarre that he was going to practice it just a few months after the peace treaties was signed.

 

Not only that, but it would mean that he would let his intentions be known to Honerva. What if she rejected him? Or worse—accepted him out of obligation?  He didn’t want either of those things. He wanted Honerva to be free to decide without any repercussions. 

 

He could back out now, he supposed, but he was already standing by Honerva’s side. Oh well, he could feign ignorance of Altean culture, he supposed—better that he looked like a fool than allow Honerva to feel embarrassed.

 

But there was something in Honerva’s eyes as Zarkon watched closer, holding a pitcher of  _ vokta _ in his hands—something like an epiphany, and Zarkon tripped over his own foot, literally, and doused Honerva in the sweet sparkling pink water.

 

“Oh my stars! Forgive me!” Zarkon shouted, throwing the pitcher to the side where it crashed against the stone floor. He tried to fruitlessly pat her dry with the end of his cape—she was practically dripping with  _ vokta _ , and Zarkon wished for a hole to open underneath his feet to swallow him whole.

 

Honerva’s eyes were shut for a few dreadful ticks as if she was trying to compose herself, before she finally opened them and said, voice tight, “I think it’s best that I return to the facility, Your Majesty. I already have had enough of humiliation for a day.”

 

“Please, take this”, Kolivan said as they offered a clean robe to Honerva, which they had gotten from a nearby servant. She wore it quickly before disappearing behind the door, no doubt to return to the facility.

 

“That… was something”, Kolivan commented as soon as the servants were gone.

 

“Please end me”, Zarkon moaned, putting his arms over his face.

 

“That would be regicide, not to mention mariticide”, he could hear Kolivan say. “And who knows, maybe my parents would finally marry me off to Ranveig. Then, I’d have to kill him too.”

 

“That would be for the best!” Zarkon cried out.

 

“Come on, you big drama king”, Kolivan said as he pried Zarkon’s arms off his face and gently helped him up to his feet. “There there. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“But it is! How am I supposed to face her now?” he moaned again. Kolivan was guiding him in and into their chambers.

 

“Give her time, then apologize to her”, Kolivan suggested as they walked past the threshold of their private chambers. “Preferably before they started their project. A bribe might help too.”

 

“Why did you even marry me? I’m such a loser”, Zarkon said sadly.

 

“I married you because I love you”, Kolivan said with no hesitation. “Your awkwardness, your loser-ness, and all.”

 

Zarkon could feel his face heating up as he flopped onto the bed, robe half-undone. Kolivan stood by the bed and gave Zarkon a sigh.

 

“It'll be fine, my love.”

 

Zarkon wanted to believe them.

 

— 

 

He finally got his chance to apologize to Honerva a few  _ dral _ later. He was officiating the opening of the Altean facility, only for formalities as the people of Galra were seemingly unable to take anything seriously without it being made official.

 

As soon as he was done with all formalities, he hovered by the buffet table, fiddling with the Royal Brooch he was wearing as he waited for Honerva to walk by. Kolivan was standing guard behind him, as usual, and Zarkon trusted them to give him signal if they spotted Honerva.

 

In the end, Zarkon spotted Honerva first. She was wearing her Altean alchemist uniform as she talked to her fellow Altean associates, with the strange blue-and-orange creature perching on her shoulder. Zarkon waited until the other Alteans walked away before he made way to her.

 

“Honerva, I—” Zarkon paused, sighing. “I wish to apologize for what happened a few days ago—”

 

“It’s alright, Your Majesty”, Honerva answered, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Her fingers scratched the creature's fur as her eyes were searching around, and it seemed as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

 

“No, it wasn’t alright”, Zarkon returned. “I  _ know _ what the gesture means in Altean culture and while I admit I admire your intelligence and courage, that does not excuse what I did. That was unprofessional of me. For that, I apologize.”

 

Honerva finally stopped looking around for exit and looked at him in the eye. “You know, Your Majesty? I’m a scientist, hired to do science work. I’d rather focus on my work than attending diplomat stuff. If you allow me to to work in peace, perhaps… well, perhaps we can start anew. As  _ acquaintances _ .”

 

“That is agreeable”, Zarkon gave her a nod. “Speaking of, if you need to look at the data my team and I have gathered about the asteroid…”

 

“That would be helpful. I’d be happy to receive them, Your Majesty”, Honerva said with a smile.

 

“I will send them posthaste”, Zarkon promised.

 

—

 

As promised, Zarkon delivered the data in a small datachip, a few  _ dral _ later. In return, Honerva sent a quick message as thanks—and while the message was purely professional in manner, Zarkon couldn't help but feel an immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

 

The Altean team had begun their research, sending a small vessel to the edge of the solar system to scan the asteroid and whatnot. As the project leader, Honerva herself went along with her fellow alchemists to make sure that everything worked as planned. Zarkon refused to feel so affected by the fact that she was gone, and threw himself into his work and family as a result.

 

He had a lot of work to do, and he hadn’t even begun to gather people to start the orbital rings project for the Alteans.

 

He received daily reports from Honerva, which he forwarded to his own astrogeology team and Alfor. They had been in touch more lately, and one day, Alfor announced that he’d be visiting Daibazaal to check up on the Altean facility.

 

“Thank you for extending your hospitality”, Alfor said with a smile as he stepped off his ship, followed by Coran.

 

“It's no problem, Prince-Consort Alfor”, Zarkon returned as he guided the Altean men into the carriage that would be taking them to the facility.

 

“Please, call me Alfor”, Alfor said. “Prince-Consort sounds too formal.”

 

Zarkon blinked in confusion. Was this some kind of Altean thing? The two of them were prominent figures that people looked up to. Calling them by their title was only respectful. It was different when he was calling Trigel and Gyrgan without their title in informal situations—because they were his  _ friends _ . He and Alfor were barely  _ acquaintances _ . 

 

But if Alfor insisted to be called without his title, then Zarkon supposed he had to extend the same courtesy.

 

“Of course. Please call me Zarkon too”, he returned with a nod. A pleased smile curled on Alfor’s lips.

 

“Is Honerva causing you trouble? I know how overeager she can be”, Alfor asked once they were in the carriage.

 

Zarkon tilted his head. He wondered if Alfor knew about the ‘incident’, if Honerva reported back to Alfor about it, and now he was confronting Zarkon about it. But Alfor’s tone was nothing but casual.

 

“She’s been… very punctual. With her reports”, Zarkon eventually answered.

 

“I see”, Alfor replied.

 

Once they reached the facility, Alfor hummed as he examined the building. “You Galra always makes the most beautiful and elegant structures. It’s different than the Altean’s sense of beauty and elegance, but they’re still beautiful and elegant nonetheless.”

 

“Thank you for your kind compliment”, Zarkon smiled—he was most definitely not swelling up with pride. The facility, while not being one of the most beautiful structures the Galra had ever built, still had its own uniqueness in Zarkon’s own opinion.

 

The building combined the Altean architecture and Galran architecture into a hybridized masterpiece, allowing its Altean inhabitants to feel more like home, but also making the building itself blend with other Galran buildings surrounding it. The curves and lines of the Altean style meshed well with the Galran geometrical patterns, creating an unique harmony that Zarkon never tired of staring at. Inside it, neutral grey, Altean blue, and Galran purple decorated its interior. There was even an Altean style fountain sitting in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by Galran flora.

 

“Oh, that is so  _ beautiful _ ”, Alfor commented about the fountain’s arrangement.

 

“Speaking of, am I right to assume that the purpose of your visit is to discuss about starting the orbital rings project?” Zarkon asked.

 

“That’s part of the reason indeed”, Alfor said as he turned to face him. “If you can give us a number of people involved in the project, I can start making arrangements for their accommodations.”

 

“I will send it posthaste”, Zarkon nodded, making a mental note to gather his builders and engineers. A project that big would require thousands of workers; he probably had to outsource some Dalterian and Rygniran workers to assist with the construction.

 

“Now, I normally don’t involve myself in such matter, but I want to speak with you from one prominent figure to another”, Alfor said, face suddenly turned serious, and Zarkon felt his stomach drop in anticipation. “But Honerva is my best friend and I heard a rather… troubling thing about you intending to court her.”

 

“Ah, it will never happen again”, Zarkon rubbed the back of his head, thoroughly chastised. “I know that our alliance is still new, but… I do intend to respect it, and I don’t want to make things awkward because I cannot control my own desire.”

 

“That’s not what I meant to say”, Alfor said with a sigh. He turned away from Zarkon to stare at the fountain. “Honerva is… a very dedicated alchemist, but she is very lonely. It would do her good if she has another friend… or lover.”

 

“Are you giving me permission to court her?” Zarkon couldn’t believe his ears. He thought Alfor would be against it.

 

“If that’s what you wish to do”, Alfor shrugged. “If it is, my only advice for you is to take it very slowly. But if you wish to be her friend instead, well, I won’t stop you either.”

 

Zarkon didn’t know what to say, so he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Alfor smiled widely.

 

“Now, can you show me around the facility? I want to look at the labs”, he demanded.

 

Zarkon obliged. In the end, he spent vargas in the facility as Alfor demanded to test the lab himself.


	4. Chapter 4

One year had passed since Honerva’s teams started the research of the asteroid. The more Zarkon learned about the Alteans working with him—specifically Alfor and Honerva—the more Zarkon realized just how vastly different they were from the Galra… and each other.

 

Honerva had the brightest mind Zarkon had ever seen. She found joy in the wonders of the Universe and would do  _ anything _ in the pursuit of knowledge. With each days passing, she found more and more about the asteroid, which helped her team to devise a plan to destroy it. She was also the worst workaholic Zarkon had ever seen—and Zarkon was contemplating to break the boundaries of being an acquaintance of hers just tell her  _ to stars-damned sleep _ because she would spend  _ days _ not sleeping.

 

Alfor was quite similar to Honerva, except he also insisted that he was a warrior, despite having exactly zero sensibilities about not charging ahead without backup. He was impatient and foolhardy, and would do his best to disregard all safety precautions which often resulted in the most violent explosion. How the Altean man was still alive after everything, Zarkon had no idea, and he often had to bodily drag Alfor away from danger.

 

Just like moments ago.

 

Zarkon walked down the ramp of his ship as soon as they touched down on the landing platform; with Alfor to his right, Trigel to his left, and Gyrgan behind him. Kolivan was already there, arms crossing over their chest as they looked like they had been worrying themself sick. Ignoring the others, Zarkon went to greet his mate first, but Kolivan moved away, refusing to be hugged.

 

“My dear…” Zarkon said slowly, ears dropping in disappointment, but Kolivan interrupted him with a wave of their hand.

 

“One day! I left for just one day—”Kolivan’s voice had an edge of hysteria on it. “And you’re off fighting  _ pirates?! _ ”

 

“Ah…” Zarkon didn’t understand why they were so upset. It was critical for them to retake that particular mining colony from pirates, and it wasn’t like pirates were that hard to defeat. “It was a very important mission…?”

 

“You could’ve sent—” Kolivan paused, no doubt nearly saying ‘the Blade of Marmora’, but they composed themself quickly. “Your fleet commanders! Or anyone, really! And instead you chose to gallivant off by yourself?!”

 

“Forgive us, Kolivan”, Alfor stepped forward and Kolivan turned their murderous glare on the Altean man. “I was the one who asked Zarkon to join our little… gallivanting, as you say.”

 

Kolivan looked like they were going to kill Alfor on the spot, before Trigel stepping forward. 

 

“Zarkon actually saved our skin by being the most responsible and having a good head for battle strategy. Without him, the ambush would've gone on for much longer”, Trigel reassured. “And Alfor would be dead, that’s for sure.”

 

Kolivan looked like they very much wanted to argue, but Zarkon stepped in between them and his friends. “I am fine, my dearest love. Stop being such a worrywart. It erodes your beauty.”

 

Kolivan pouted, but Zarkon could see the telltale of a blush on their cheeks. Their ears flicked in annoyance, before their shoulders sagged a little bit.

 

“I am glad that you returned safe, but it would be best if you tell me in advance instead of running off on your own, leaving me to find out about it from your  _ aide _ ”, they said. “And for stars’ sake, bring some of your  _ bodyguards _ next time.”

 

“Next time”, Zarkon agreed with a grin, before turning to his friends. “Come now, my fellow warriors! Tonight, we celebrate our victory!”

 

As it turned out, Kolivan had arranged for a dinner party to be held in the main dining hall. Food of various origins was served. Kolivan also had specifically ordered to bring out one of the ancient casket full of aged mead, along with other beverages such as Altean wine and Rygniran ale.

 

“—and then, Zarkon went ‘I am  _ not _ going to toss you to the enemies, Alfor’ and of course, our  _ most sensible _ friend here went and tossed himself into the enemies!” Gyrgan recounted to Kolivan, thumb pointing to Alfor’s direction, and laughter boomed around the table.

 

“I was handling myself”, Alfor said with a pout.

 

“You mean, getting yourself captured”, Trigel corrected, and more laughter boomed.

 

“I still cannot believe there’s anyone more reckless than Trigel here”, Zarkon said, his shoulders still shook from laughter as he pointed towards Trigel. “Once she broke into the Great Veloxian Archive to steal their rock samples.”

 

“Those rock samples were  _ not _ supposed to be there!” Trigel hissed, slamming her goblet on the table so hard it rattled the table. Gyrgan broke into a laugh, and just as Trigel tried to argue, he laughed even harder.

 

Zarkon shook his head before turning his attention away from his friends and to Alfor. “So, are you going to come to  _ Dral’Zeravis _ ? I will send out a formal invitation for Queen Melenor and you later, so consider this as me inviting you as my friend.”

 

“We will be there, Zarkon”, Alfor said with a smile. “Speaking of which, will you be inviting Honerva too?”

 

Zarkon choked on his drink, before he turned to look at Alfor in horror. “…Should I?”

 

“I think you should. She’d be happy to get a break from work”, Alfor answered.

 

Zarkon thought about how the last time Honerva worked for three days straight, and somewhat doubted Alfor’s words.

 

But it wouldn’t hurt to try, right…?

 

— 

 

Zarkon liked to think that he and Honerva were at least close acquaintances, but there was some part of him that wished they could become closer.  _ Friends _ —yes, definitely just friends. 

 

Honerva still had some reservations when she was around him. Whenever they were together, it felt like there was a huge distance between them; and Zarkon wished he could bridge that distance. However, Zarkon didn’t want to force his friendship on her too hard; he still remembered what happened the last time he had tried to court her her. He didn’t think he could ever forget that humiliation—and he assumed that Honerva felt the same.

 

That didn’t stop him from dancing around her, though. Aside from the data his own science team had gathered, Zarkon had given her more and more each passing days. Accommodations for her and her team, ships to transport equipments from Altea to Daibazaal, even access to the Royal Archive in case she needed it. Aside from the last one, they were too impersonal to be called courting gifts, but still, Zarkon hoped that Honerva would realize the meaning of his gifts.

 

“I think you should invite her”, Kolivan suggested as the two of them sat face to face in little Sincline’s nursery. Sincline themself was crawling back and forth between their parents.

 

"But won’t she think that I have an ulterior motive should I to invite her?” Zarkon asked, before catching little Sincline just in time as they flopped into his lap. He lifted his hatchling and pressed his forehead to theirs, causing them to squeak and scrunch their face in protest.

 

“It is a gathering of people from various worlds across the galaxy”, Kolivan said with a shrug. “Her being there doesn’t mean anything, especially since your friends will be there too. You can also tell her that she can bring her scientists along, if she wishes to.”

 

“Right…” Zarkon muttered as he lowered little Sincline to the plush-lined floor, where they quickly crawled towards Kolivan. Kolivan lifted them up and earned a pat to the cheek—and no, Zarkon was  _ not jealous _ that his hatchling loved their dam more than him.

 

Alright, maybe a little bit jealous.

 

Kolivan put little Sincline back into their lap, and Sincline settled in with a mighty yawn and a soft mew. Zarkon scooted closer so he could scritch Sincline’s head-crest and smiled as they began to purr sleepily.

 

“Anyway, I need to visit New Loria for a bit”, Kolivan said all of a sudden. Zarkon turned to face them, surprised. “Only for a few days, my love. Family matter.”

 

“Do you want me to go too?” Zarkon asked, worried. Normally, Kolivan  _ hated _ the prospect of visiting their family—their family still nagged at them to quickly find a third spouse to complete their marriage, and even went as far to throw suitors at them. One of those suitors, of course, was Ranveig.

 

“You are needed here for the preparations of  _ Dral’Zeravis _ ”, Kolivan answered. They sounded resigned, which made Zarkon wish he could postpone the  _ Dral’Zeravis  _ just so he could accompany his mate in their trip.

 

“Do not worry, my love. I can manage”, Kolivan continued, as if knowing what Zarkon was thinking. They pressed their nose to Zarkon’s cheek, and Zarkon turned just so he could bump his nose to theirs.

 

“If you say so”, he said. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

 

“Of course”, Kolivan returned with a smile.

 

— 

 

With Kolivan gone, the duty to take care of little Sincline fell to Zarkon’s hands. Zarkon didn’t mind it at all; he loved spending time with his hatchling, especially now that little Sincline was able to babble in baby talk. It was absolutely hilarious to him, talking about something serious, only for little Sincline to answer him in gibberish as if they were giving him their opinion of the matter.

 

Zarkon attended to his royal duties like that, with his hatchling strapped to his chest. Some people would look at him weird, but some—mostly those who had hatchlings of their own—didn’t even bat an eye when Zarkon attended a meeting with his hatchling squeaking throughout it all.

 

Today, however, Zarkon was scheduled to go to the Altean facility to check their progress. As they rode to the facility, Zarkon could feel his nervousness rising in his chest at the prospect of meeting Honerva, and little Sincline picked it up by being more agitated than usual. 

 

“ _ Za’vai Andu _ , come on”, Zarkon pleaded before he hummed the tune of Sincline’s favorite lullaby, but his hatchling continued to cry and squirm in their sling. “Please calm down.  _ Star shine, star shine, shine so bright. Little star, little star, shine so bright. _ Oh look! That’s a cruiser!”

 

Zarkon turned Sincline around so they could see the view outside, where a cruiser was leaving Vortas Spaceport. Sincline was so enraptured by the sight that they stopped crying.  _ Finally _ , Zarkon sighed.

 

Once they couldn’t see the spaceport anymore, Zarkon picked up a toy cruiser from the bag the nanny had prepared for their trip and made it fly above Sincline’s head. Sincline flailed their arms as if trying to catch the cruiser and babbled. 

 

Eventually, they reached the Altean facilities and Zarkon exited the carriage, his hatchling safely strapped to his chest. This attracted attention from the Alteans, though Zarkon didn’t know why it was such a big deal for them. He simply ignored the stares and continued walking into the facilities. A quick elevator ride took him to Honerva's meeting room, where the Altean alchemist was already waiting for him. 

 

“Hello, Your—oh, a baby!” Honerva exclaimed and she approached Zarkon and Sincline. Sincline babbled and flailed their arms forward as if to reach for Honerva's. “They're so adorable! What is their name?”

 

“Their name is Sincline”, Zarkon replied with a adorable. “Do you want to carry them?”

 

Honerva's face immediately morphed into horror. “Oh no! I am unfortunately bad with children. I just prefer to admire them from the safe distance.”

 

“I… see”, Zarkon muttered. That was understandable; he knew that not all people had the patience to handle children, especially hatchlings as young as Sincline. He would rather not traumatize both Honerva and Sincline just because she had poor handling of his hatchling.

 

Honerva looked relieved for a bit before focusing on her console, but then her ears perked up and she turned back to him. “I’ve almost forgotten. Your Majesty… about the invitation…”

 

Zarkon blinked. “Oh, yes. I am inviting you to come to the Dral’Zeravis. You may also extend the invitation to any members of your team, if you wish so”, he said. “Do not worry, it is only a festival to celebrate the day of planting, hence the name. Not a formal event.”

 

“I am… uncertain if I should attend, with all the unfinished work I have here”, Honerva said, her ears drooping.

 

“I know that you are doing amazing work here, but it won’t hurt to loosen up every now and then”, Zarkon told her.

 

Honerva smiled. “You sound like Prince-Consort Alfor.”

 

“Funny, he’s actually the one who told me to invite you”, Zarkon said with a chuckle. “He will be coming with Queen Melenor, so you and your team won’t be the only Alteans there, if you are worried about that.”

 

“I am not worried about that”, Honerva said, shaking her head. “Then, I will be there, Your Majesty. I will also forward the invitation to my team members to see if any of them will be interested in coming.”

 

“Very well, then”, Zarkon concluded, and their conversation shifted to Honerva’s work.

 

— 

 

The day of the festival came. Alfor and Trigel had arrived early in the morning, with the rest of their envoys, and Zarkon was treating them for a breakfast in the Celestial Garden. It had rained earlier so the Garden still smelled like wet soil and fresh flowers.

 

“Thank you for inviting us, Emperor Zarkon”, Queen Melenor said with a smile. “Alfor had been  _ so _ excited to come and see the festival.”

 

“For scientific purposes, of course”, Alfor countered. “I love to see and observe festivals and celebrations of other worlds. It is amazing to see that people across the galaxies have found reasons to celebrate.”

 

“And you love to play the festival games too”, Trigel teased. Laughter erupted around the table.

 

“Like I said, for scientific purposes”, Alfor retorted with a pout.

 

The gate to the Garden then opened to reveal Gyrgan, his Laghar Harum, and his envoy. “Sorry I’m late, my friends.”

 

“You are not late, Gyrgan”, Zarkon reassured him. “Alfor and Trigel are just early.”

 

Gyrgan’s eyes fell on little Sincline strapped to Zarkon’s chest and he looked up questioningly. “Kolivan is not here yet?”

 

“They will be coming with the Lorians later”, Zarkon answered. Kolivan had been away for seven days, and he had been missing them so much it hurt. Sure, they chatted via the holo, but it was different from actually having them by his side.

 

The conversation continued as they had breakfast. Gyrgan and Alfor were chatting about festivals they’d attended while visiting other worlds, while Trigel and Queen Melenor talked about trades between the Dalterians and the Alteans.

 

Meanwhile, Zarkon helped little Sincline eat pureed meat, and they ate it with great appetite. At one point, Sincline started to get fussy so Zarkon picked up their toy cruiser and made thruster noises as he made it fly above their head. Sincline clapped and giggled, before Zarkon fed them another spoonful of pureed meat.

 

“They’re teething, aren’t they?” Gyrgan asked all of a sudden, and Zarkon looked down to where Sincline was gnawing at the spoon.

 

“Yes, they are”, Zarkon answered before gently tugging the spoon away. Sincline kicked their little feet in protest, before Zarkon could put a teething ring between their teeth. However, Sincline seemed to be offended by it and spat it out. Zarkon used the chance to feed them again.

 

Breakfast was over soon, and Zarkon excused himself to change clothes. Changing himself into his formal robe was difficult without Kolivan helping him, and Zarkon was resigned to have some of his servants help him. Once he was done, he strapped Sincline to his chest once again before meeting his friends at the palace entrance, where several carriages were already waiting for them.

 

“Is Honerva coming?” Alfor asked, once the carriage started to move.

 

“I assume so”, Zarkon gave him a nod. “The facilities in Vortas is closer to Yerevna, where the festival is held, so I thought it would be best that she heads towards it directly. I already provided transport for her and her team.”

 

“I see. I’m glad that she’s taking a break from her research”, Alfor said with a smile.

 

Queen Melenor cleared her throat. “You speak as if you’re not a workaholic like her, my love.”

 

Gyrgan and Trigel laughed, while Alfor pouted.

 

—

 

Their group arrived just in time to hear the last of the governor of Yerevna’s speech. Zarkon immediately got pulled onto the stage to give his own speech, which was short, but straight to the point and of the spirit of the celebration. When he was done, people cheered and confetti balls exploded above their heads, signaling the start of the Planting Festival.

 

Per the tradition, Zarkon was given the chance to plant the first seedling on the freshly plowed soil, before dancers moved in and enacted the Planting Dance. After cleaning himself up, Zarkon took little Sincline back from their nanny and made their little hands sway in tune to the Planting Dance song. This seemed to amuse Sincline, and they giggled and kicked their legs.

 

Honerva arrived not long after that, along with ten of her team members. She wore plain clothes instead of her usual Altean alchemist attire, just like the other Altean researchers, and her hair was tied in a ponytail.

 

“Sorry we’re late. We got caught up in the work!” Honerva said with a toothy smile. Her hair was rather disheveled and she was panting from the exertion; she looked as if she had been running.

 

“Honerva, you came!” Alfor brightened up at the sight of his friend and they exchanged a brief handshake and a hug.

 

“You are not late, Honerva”, Zarkon reassured her, before spreading his arms joyfully. “Welcome to the Planting Festival! Please enjoy yourself, my friends!”

 

A wide grin spread on Alfor’s face before he dragged Zarkon and Honerva into the thick of the Festival, Coran trailing behind them like a second shadow. Zarkon obliged, but only because he thought it would be hilarious to see Alfor realizing what a mistake it would be to drag  _ him _ around. His assumption was correct; as soon as they reached the market area, people began to swarm around them like  _ twalik _ , with his trusted Blades keeping them from getting too close.

 

“Your Sublimity, please try our  _ derka _ skewers! It is the best one on the hill!” one vendor keeper shouted.

 

“Try our fresh  _ hraljata _ too, Your Sublimity!” another vendor shouted.

 

“Would you like to try our games, Your Sublimity?”

 

Zarkon wanted to laugh as he looked at Alfor and Honerva’s expression; while Alfor looked completely bewildered, Honerva looked like she wanted a hole to open up under her feet and swallow her whole. 

 

“You’re, uh… very popular”, Alfor noted, voice tight. “I've always wondered, why are they calling you ‘Sublimity?’”

 

“It is a title I earned from my Kral Zera”, Zarkon answered. “Apparently it was because I  _ inspired  _ all the other candidates to fight against a common goal instead of defeating them all like my predecessors did.”

 

“Wow…” Alfor muttered, mesmerized. “Wait, weren't there roughly  _ five hundred candidates _ for your Kral Zera?! And you convinced them all to follow you?”

 

So the Altean intels knew about that particular detail. Zarkon was impressed.

 

“I can be charming if I have to be”, was all he said with a shrug. In truth, the other candidates were simply too scared to face Warlord Gorkel, a violent warlord who wanted to bring back class-segregation and make the Empire even more militaristic than it already was. Once Gorkel was defeated, the other candidates agreed to let Zarkon light up the Kral Zera, crowning him as their Emperor.

 

Zarkon showed the Alteans around. They tried festival food and played festival games. As soon as he got over the surprise of being crowded, Alfor was thoroughly enjoying himself, trying Galran food with great interest. At one point, one of the vendors was trying to convince Zarkon to give him a set of beautiful handmade jewelries, free of charge.

 

“These purple gems would look  _ exquisite  _ on the Lord-Consort, Your Sublimity”, the vendor said, and Zarkon couldn’t help but agree. Now that he was offered the jewelries, he realized that it had been awhile since he bought Kolivan something nice.

 

“Please accept the payment, good lady”, Zarkon tried to convince the vendor. “I cannot accept things free of charge, especially for something as beautiful as this piece of craftsmanship.”

 

“Your Sublimity flatters me”, the vendor chuckled. “But my business is thriving thanks to your micro-business programs. I can offer you this jewelry without having to worry that my business will crumble.”

 

“Then please accept my payment as something like a subsidy, so your price may remain competitive”, Zarkon said.

 

In the end, the vendor caved and accepted Zarkon’s payment. As the vendor handed his purchase, Alfor gave Zarkon an amused chuckle.

 

“So you can be charming, alright”, Alfor said, and Zarkon gave him a winning smile.

 

“I told you I could do it”, he retorted. “How about you two? Do you have something you want to buy? Please, look around. Consider it a gift from me.”

 

Alfor hummed before he looked around at the next vendor, which seemed to sell a variety of rocks. Zarkon briefly wondered if Alfor was a rock collector too; he and Kolivan would make a great pair with their love of astrogeology. Meanwhile, Honerva stayed at the jeweller, her eyes were locked at a pair of earrings with gold-flecked purple stones as insets.

 

“They would look great on you”, Zarkon commented with a hum.

 

“What—this? Oh, no no no”, Honerva laughed nervously. “I have, uh… severe allergy to almost all metal used in jewelry. Besides, I don’t have a dress to match.”

 

“We also have plastic earrings with similar stones, My Lady”, the vendor said with a smile. “His Sublimity is correct, they would look great on you.”

 

“For real?” Honerva asked, her ears perking up in apparent interest now.

 

“Do not worry about the dress too. There are vendors selling clothes around”, Zarkon told her.

 

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose on you, Your Majesty”, Honerva blurted.

 

“Honerva…” Zarkon said with a groan. “You are working very hard to save my planet, sometimes at the cost of your own personal time. Buying you a pair of earrings and a dress is the very least i can do to repay you.”

 

“Well… if you say so”, Honerva still looked unconvinced.

 

“I am also a royalty, and rejecting my gift would be a severe insult”, Zarkon teased with a smirk, which caused Honerva to laugh.

 

_ Stars _ , she had a very beautiful laugh.

 

“Alright, then, Your Majesty. You’ve convinced me”, she said.

 

In the end, Zarkon paid for Honerva’s earrings and dress, and a suitcase full of Alfor’s new rock collection. They met with Gyrgan, Trigel, and Melenor, before returning to the royal suite where they would be staying for the duration of the festival—minus Honerva who had to return to the facilities along with her team members. Zarkon didn’t mind; she had works to do, a very important work that could not be interrupted by his own selfish desire for her to stay.

 

Besides, he got his own surprise when he entered his chamber and found Kolivan in the bath, hair undone as they relaxed on the fresh, fragrant water. Zarkon quickly relieved himself of little Sincline, handing them over to the nanny, before joining his mate.

 

“Stars, I’ve missed you”, Zarkon rumbled as he rubbed his face all over Kolivan’s neck, claiming him as his own. Kolivan’s scent filled his nostril, mixing with the fragrance from the water and Zarkon’s own scent. Zarkon missed this, the closeness they shared as their bodies joined into one and their scents intermingled with one another.

 

“I’ve missed you too.” Kolivan let out a happy purr as they rubbed their face along Zarkon’s jaw. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

 

Zarkon continued to rumble and Kolivan continued to purr as they bathed. Once they were done, they stayed in the water, their fingers intertwined, never to be apart.

 

—

 

Zarkon was woken up by the sound of his comm beeping. 

 

He was way too content to lay in his mate's arms to answer it, but it was his work comm, not his personal one, and that meant something disastrous was happening right this very instant if people were comming him at this hour. He wondered if the Nalquodians had finally attacked one of his colonies—there had been no news about the Nalquodians since the peace talk one year ago and they were forced to dismantle their conquered colonies. Though the Front had been quiet for a year, the whole situation were making everyone tense as they waited for another attack to be launched.

 

Zarkon groaned before he finally wriggled out of Kolivan's hold—they had quite a strangling hold on him—and pressed a soft kiss to their temple before he finally reached for his comm.

 

“State your business”, Zarkon said, accepting only the audio before slipping out of the bed and went to dress himself up. If this was really an emergency, he had to appear put-together instead of looking like he just had rolled out of his bed… even if that was exactly what happened.

 

“Your Sublimity, this is Commander Bogh of the Z-9 Fleet, reporting from the Front”, one of his commanders said, and Zarkon dreaded for words of another attack. But then Bogh continued, “Earlier at twenty-hundred hour, the Nalquodians sent us a distress signal. It’s—Your Sublimity, an asteroid similar to the one heading towards Daibazaal, struck Nalquod!”

 

Zarkon felt something inside him crumble at that. He hated the Nalquodians, but he wouldn’t have wished such fate to befall on them. “Did you assist with their evacuation process?”

 

“Of course, Your Sublimity. But we couldn’t save everyone; millions of people perished, and now we have thousands of refugees aboard our ship and we… we don’t know what to do”, Commander Bogh said, and Zarkon couldn’t blame him. This was unprecedented—the Nalquodians were an enemy of the Galra, and even though they have ceased their attacks to the Front as of late, they were still not  _ allies _ . 

 

Zarkon had finished dressing himself up and brought his comm to the communication console inside the room. 

 

“Can you patch the Proctor through? I’m accepting visual”, Zarkon told Bogh.

 

A screen popped up above the communication console, and Proctor Blaytz’ face appeared on it. He looked bedraggled, lines of exhaustion prominent on his face, and his eyes brightened with hope as they met with Zarkon’s. 

 

“By the depths, I’ve never thought I’d be happy to see your face, Emperor Zarkon”, Blaytz said with a weary sigh.

 

“Proctor Blaytz, can you tell me about your people’s conditions?” Zarkon asked.

 

“Not good. We could only save thousands, but… it’s nothing compared to the millions that perished”, Blaytz answered. “I cannot ask the Alliance’s assistance as we are no longer part of it. Our colonies had been dismantled. I—I don’t know where to turn. I know that we have much bad blood between us, but I beg you now, please.  _ Please _ , save my people.”

 

Zarkon was quiet as he contemplated. True, there had been so much bad blood between Daibazaal and Nalquod, but Zarkon couldn’t help but sympathize with Blaytz right now—after all, Daibazaal would meet the same fate as the Nalquod in less than twenty years, if they could not find the right solution.

 

He briefly wondered why the Nalquodians could miss such large space object entering their solar system, before dismissing it. There would be time to ask about the asteroid to Blaytz later. For now, he had to focus on the matter at hand.

 

“I will discuss about this matter with the Alliance, but for now, I welcome you and your people to Daibazaal”, Zarkon told the Proctor. “I will provide aid and place to live until you can rebuild Nalquod or build a new colony.”

 

“Thank you… I— Thank you very much for your help.” Blaytz looked like he would break down and cry any moment now. Zarkon quickly bid him goodbye and good luck, before turning off the communication.

 

And now, he had to work fast to prepare the proper habitat and accommodation for the Nalquodians before they got here. If his calculations were correct, they would arrive in two weeks time after a series of hyperjumps.

 

“What happened?” Kolivan asked sleepily; they were half-sitting on the bed, hair a tangled mess. Zarkon approached them and placed a gentle kiss on the red spot on their forehead.

 

“It’s the Nalquodians. They…” Zarkon sighed, unable to continue.

 

“Did they attack another colony?” Kolivan asked, concerned.

 

“No. They… My love, an asteroid struck their homeplanet and killed millions of their people”, Zarkon said in almost whisper. “It’s a similar asteroid as the one heading towards Daibazaal. Only thousands survived… and they have nowhere to go.”

 

Kolivan’s face morphed into horror as they took Zarkon’s words in. “That’s… horrible.”

 

“Indeed. I offered them to come to Daibazaal”, Zarkon said. “My love, I know that your people have suffered greatly during the war, but… is it possible to ask the Lorians to provide a fraction of their land for the Nalquodians to live in temporarily?”

 

“It won’t be easy, but I’ll ask Ranveig”, Kolivan said, giving him a firm nod.

 

“Good”, Zarkon nodded too, before pressing another kiss to his mate’s temple and left the bed to start his day early. “I need to contact the Altean researchers, letting them know about the asteroid striking Nalquod. I’m sure they’ll want to research that one too.”

 

“I’ll let your friends and advisors know where you’re going and and gather aid for the Nalquodians”, Kolivan said. “Once Ranveig awakens, I will let him know too.”

 

“Thank you, my love”, Zarkon said with a smile. Then, he left to the Altean facilities.


End file.
